


What the fuck am I supposed to do about you and I?

by badreputation



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Billy and Steve are oblivious idiots, Billy get your shit together pls, Billy's dad is a grade A asshat, Billy's fucked up but he gets the help he needs, Hurt/Comfort, I mentioned swearing but I'm updating the tag because the swearing is excessive I'm sorry, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Jim and Joyce are everybody's parents, M/M, Panic Attacks, Rating will go to Explicit in later chapters, Slow Burn, a ton of angst because lets face it it's Billy we're talking about, also El adops Billy, also everybody curses a lot, basically everybody's there, demodogs stop at your door to ruin your day, denial isn't good for you, slowly but surely, they all just need a fucking hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-04-27 09:26:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 46,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14422443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badreputation/pseuds/badreputation
Summary: Only Billy could stumble upon a possibly kidnapped girl with superpowers when he was running away from a damn hospital because he didn't want supervision for the marvellous concussion he had.





	1. I wonder how I got by this week

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: There's heavy discription of violence (Neil and Billy) and some other stuff revolving around the Upside Down. There are also descriptions of panic attacks and the aftermath of trauma, so please decide whether you can read things like that or not! 
> 
> This baby has been on my mind since I watched Stranger Things at the beginning of the year and I already have most of the story written out. The title I took from of The Neighbourhood's song "U&I" and I'll probably name every chapter after one of their songs because it's what I jamed to while I was writing and it served as an inspiration. The song title of the chapter is from "Void".
> 
> Anyways, I don't have a beta so any mistakes are my own! Enjoy!

After that night when he bashed Harrington’s face in, it all became weird. Just plain fucking weird. He didn’t touch any of Max’s friends, including the dipshit Harrington, he didn’t speak to them, didn’t even look their way. Not even when he was waiting in front of the Arcade to pick Max up and Harrington was literally a few meters away.

There was some sort of calm before the storm with his father – he was on edge and Billy expected the eruption by the end of the week. So he kept his head down and out of sight, lingering in the corners and following everything his dad told him to do.

That type of behaviour did earn some weird looks from Max, but she was probably thinking this was him keeping away from her friends.

Billy found it a bit unrealistic – using threats to protect people she had known for _barely a week_ after they’d moved. It was plain ridiculous but Billy wouldn’t know, the small group of friends he had was back in Cali, not this misty and depressing dump.

New Year coming and going didn’t help. The death of his mother’s anniversary was right up the corner and he hated just how fast the time flew by to the 3rd of January when he didn’t want it to near. The pent up anger from the past month of silence was making him jittery to the point where he had to up his exercising a couple of notches. As in, one and a half hour runs every day, double the weight he lifted and to add up on his plate of unhealthy shit on the side - way more cigarettes than his lungs agreed to.

It was getting harder to sleep. It was getting harder to go to class. It was getting harder to function. Max started asking questions Billy completely ignored. He’d stopped talking to her unless it was absolutely necessary, which barely happened when their schedule was always the same.

She hadn’t seen him like this. This was the first time they’d lived under the same roof, thus the first time Billy couldn’t hide away when he needed it.

The only thing that mattered to him was that his father wasn’t paying attention to him.

  * ••••••



Until he did.

On the anniversary.

Billy wanted a long run on that day, to stifle the burning pain in his chest, but snow had started falling at one point. When Billy got back home from the too short night run around the disgustingly foggy Hawkins, they were all around the table.

His father placed his fork on the plate with a loud clack while Billy calmed his breathing. “You know when dinner starts.” he said, nose up, eyes flashing.

Billy knew then and there that tonight was going to be a mouthful.

“I’m not hungry.” Billy lowered his head a smidge. Old habits were hard to kill. Only today he was livid at everything. His mom died on _this_ fucking day and he couldn’t even go to her grave because he was in a different fucking state.

“Susan cooks for every person under this roof and you have the nerve to be so ungrateful?” his father stood up slowly, yet the chair still made an ugly sound across the tiles.

Max was suddenly very alert. Billy couldn’t remember if she’d actually ever witnessed the true way his father treated him. Susan was looking at them as if her stare would be enough to deter any fight.

“No, sir. I just don’t feel hungry.” for the first time in a long goddamn time he felt the anticipation thumping in his veins, yet it wasn’t mixed with fear. It was so weird to be so void. So, so weird.

“Neil, let’s just finish dinner, okay?”

His father’s jaw ticked. “Don’t think this is over.” And he went to sit back the table.

Billy went through a fast shower, didn’t even bother to put on home clothes when he knew what was about to go down. He put on his thickest jeans and pullover, tucking his mom’s necklace under it, careful with the delicate chain. He threw on the leather jacket last, tugging sharply at the lapels in an old habit, and pocketed the car keys along with all the spare money he had on him.

He sat on the bed to smoke a cigarette. It was a matter of time now.

In the end, it took more than he expected and he’d finished half of his pack while he just sat there waiting for his father. He wanted it to be over so that he could drive away from the house for the night.

And his father didn’t disappoint. The punches were more venomous than they’d been for a while. He probably had a few bruised ribs but that wasn’t the concerning part. The shove at his dresser was what did it when his head got smacked in the corner and a sharp pain throbbed close to his upper hairline.

“Your mother is dead, Billy. Man up.” that was what finished him.

He didn’t know how or when but suddenly his father was off of him and Billy had turned around.

“ _You_ don’t fucking get to talk about mom like that.” he pushed until his father had his back digging into the boombox. “Not now, not fucking ever, you piece of shit, not when you stood by and did nothing, _NOTHING!_ ” it felt so liberating, being able to scream at him without any fear melting the taste.

But his father had military training and no matter how much weights Billy lifted, he’d never be a match. He should have thought. He never does.

This time his head hit the wardrobe with a smack loud enough for him to know that this was going to be serious, not the game of hide the bruises without looking out of character.

His father stood with his fists at his sides. “Maybe if her son wasn’t so worthless, she wouldn’t be.”

Billy slid down to the ground, barely keeping the annoying tears threatening to spill over. There was blood dripping from his hairline, down his temple and cheek. Something warm and slick slid down the back of his neck. The nerve at the elbow of his left hand hurt, making his last two fingers throb along.

His father left the room, slamming some other door in the house. Usually he didn’t back down so easily. Billy vaguely heard Susan and Max from the kitchen.

Getting up was hard when he could barely stand, not without one or both knees giving over and most definitely not when it was getting kinda hard to breathe. A tear rolled down his cheek, the other one fell to the floor. Somehow he’d made himself walk down the corridor while his stomach was rebelling and the world was swaying. He hadn’t thought it’d  be bad enough that he wouldn’t be able to drive. He could barely hear properly even.

Fuck.

He had been almost at the door, sluggish legs not obeying what he wanted them to do, when Max saw him from the kitchen. Suddenly the freckles on her face stood out when she paled drastically. She halted mid taking a step. A plate slipped from her hand, along with the knife and fork that had been on it.

The loud noise of the crashing plate and silverware was the worst thing he’d heard in a while. His hands lifted to his ears on reflex, one came in contact with the blood on his face. Susan wasn’t far behind, sporting a similar expression as Max. Thankfully she didn’t drop anything.

Watching her reach for the phone on the wall sprung him into action. He ignored any and all protests of his body and got out of the house. So much fucking snow in the span of an hour, just his luck.

Droplets of blood fell in the white.

Maybe he was imagining it but the cold made him feel better.

His vision was off. It didn’t stop him. He had to go far away from this place, his ‘ _home_ ’. Just thinking of the word left a disgusting tint in his mouth.

Billy stumbled down the road, trying to figure out whether it really was this dark or his eyes were playing him. Time was moving slowly and quickly simultaneously. The crunch of his boots in the snow was too loud. He couldn’t feel his hands, even the one he held pressed to his ribs. His face felt uncomfortable with the combination of the now dried blood and the blood that kept trickling from the wound despite the icy air.

Then out of fucking nowhere, something red dashed to his right, followed by the piercing screech of tires on the asphalt. The sound dug into his brain, like tiny claws with spasms delving into his cranium. His legs gave out then, he was on his knees. The abrupt shift made him dizzier than before, his hands dug into the snow while he heaved. Nothing came out of his stomach when he hadn't had anything since breakfast.

A palm grasped his shoulder. Billy flinched before shrugging it off. Whoever had the gall to actually bother him at a time like this was going to get at least an elbow in the face, even if he could barely focus anymore.

“C’mon, Hargrove. Stay awake.”

Steve Harrington crouched next to him, keeping his hands to himself this time. Billy was transfixed by the blood that kept on falling on the snow. It was mesmerizing in a twisted way he understood, yet couldn’t detach himself from.

The buzz in his ears grew at an alarming rate. He couldn't hear Harrington anymore, only felt his palm connect with Billy’s shoulder again.

Billy had a choice to either topple over in the snow or lean on Harrington. He tried choosing the first option but Harrington kept him upright, having fallen to his knees as well.

Billy just closed his eyes and a small part of him hoped he would wake up in his bed from a nightmare.

  * ••••••



He could hear seagulls. The waves crashing on the shore. The salt in the air. The warmth of the sun on his skin.

California.

 _Home_.

Billy sat in the sand, knees brought up so he could rest his arms on them. There was a cigarette dangling from his fingers, the smoke curling in thick strokes and “S” shapes. The sun was setting, casting its last rays for the day. It was so warm.

 _Home_.

It was the calmest he had been in a long goddamn time. Even while he had been in Cali before they moved to Hawkins, it had been anger, rage, anger, rage, idiocy that gave him bruises, anger—

Always anger.

Here, now, it was gone, like something toxic had been ripped from his insides and he could finally breathe after years of violence that he’d both received and caused.

This was a small paradise. He didn't want to leave. But the sun set and—

  * ••••••



Billy couldn't help but feel disappointed when he woke up for real this time. Thankfully there was some sun outside, albeit a pale replacement for Cali and the heat it brought.

Once he looked around he saw he was alone in the room and was attached to an IV that dripped something in his veins. He tried to sit up but his head made its protest known by knocking the wind out of him in a blink of a second.

Man, his whole body hurt. The right side of his ribs must be really fucked right now if he could feel the pull with every inhalation.

Speaking of, he was dying for a cigarette.

Just as he was about to have a second round of trying to sit on his ass, Susan came inside the room. Her expression was pained, lips tight but Billy couldn't determine if it was because of the inconvenience he caused or because of his father.

“The doctors said you have to rest and stay at the hospital for a few days. Just in case the concussion has any lasting effects they need to know about.” she said quietly, hovering near the bed, either scared to sit down or for some other reason. Billy didn’t particularly give a fuck.

“What’s the story?”

Her blue eyes caught his, finally. “What?”

Billy swallowed. He didn't have the energy to snap anything snide at her.

“What’s the story we’re running with? I fell down the stairs? Some accident in the garage? I got beaten up and landed on the doorstep like this? Or?”

The worry had drained from her face, along with the remaining color in it, having being replaced by a frown.

“How many times have you been in a hospital because of conditions like these?” she stepped closer, showing something Billy hadn't seen in her before. He couldn't put his finger on it, when his thoughts were a mess.

Billy gave a shrug with his left shoulder. “Plenty. So, what’s the story? I gotta know for when the docs come around to prod me like a frog. What you said has to overlap with what I say so it's not suspicious.”

That must have been the wrong answer because she got even closer, this time sitting on the chair next to the bed. He didn't like having her so close to him. The feeling was dumb and childish, he knew, but he was asshole supreme. That was his constant state of being.

“Has Neil always been like this? With you?” she was twisting her hands together, a panicky look crossing her face.

Fuck. This was too much attention.

His father had always been careful to not show more violence than was considered necessary in front of her. Or Max. And when he did, the damage was in places they couldn’t see. Plus, back when they were in Cali they didn’t live under one roof unlike now.

If he opened his mouth he was so fucked.

Billy turned to look at the window.

A shut mouth equaled a less angry father. A less angry father equaled less pain.

She tried a few more times, though. He wouldn’t budge. He wasn’t causing himself more pain by easing her conscience or something.

Susan left after another ten minutes of silence.

He was alone for another half an hour before some doctors came into the room and started asking questions. Billy didn’t answer them either. The only thing he wanted to know was when he could be discharged. The two men who had gotten twitchy after his lack of response shared a look.

“It would be better if—”

Billy looked at the older man for the first time since the doctors had come inside the room.

“When. Can. I. Leave.” he repeated with the tone and expression that usually worked best to shut Max up.

“In a few days. You need to be supervised.”

“Tonight.” Billy said before staring out the window again.

He continued ignoring them, instead opting to watch the changing colors in the sky. He might be dumb, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think his injuries were light. He probably really did need to stay in the hospital for more than 24 hours but the less he stayed here, the less his father would bitch.

The doctors had left at some point, he hadn’t really noticed.

He had some peace and quiet for a while, enough for him to doze off. Nobody bothered him. He’d honestly expected nurses to go back and forth. It was a relief they hadn’t. He didn’t need strangers seeing him shake because he knew there’d be consequences for him not picking up Max, for skipping school and for talking back.

The thoughts came in waves, leaving him numb enough for him to welcome the feeling of pain from his injuries.

He’d gotten lost enough in his mind to not even notice another person entering the room until he saw with his peripheral vision. Billy almost jumped out of his skin when his eyes landed on Chief Hopper. He gave a quiet but shaky exhale through his nose before erasing any emotion from his face.

The man stood with his hands in his pockets, staring down at Billy. That wasn’t concerning, no, but the fact that he looked like he _knew_ was.

“I didn’t appreciate the fact that you beat Harrington up two months ago, kid. Not one bit, actually.” Hopper finally said, keeping his distance just like Susan had.

Billy blinked back at him, the tension leaving him. If this was what the cop was here, nothing was wrong. He might get an earful or get in trouble with the law. Still, that was way fucking better than Hopper knowing what was happening behind the closed doors of the Hargrove house.

When Hooper’s eyes narrowed Billy knew he’d shown his relief enough for it to be suspicious.

“From what I heard, you want to be discharged tonight.”

“Yes, sir.” Billy kept still, normalizing his breathing when Hopper stepped closer.

He didn’t like the way Hopper didn’t say a goddamn word, just _stood_ there. At least if there was yelling or shouting he knew how to deal. Stoic silence was not a frequent occurrence.

“You’re staying for three more days.” was what he finally got after a long minute.

“I’m fine. I’ll just stay home.”

“No buts, kid.”

Hopper stood up, turned towards the door without another word.

“You don’t understand, I gotta be home.”

Hopper stopped with his hand on the handle. “I think I do.” without a visual of his face, Billy couldn’t determine anything.

Then Hopper left.

“Fuck. _Fuck_.” Billy ran his hands over his face, flinching when a fingernail caught at the wound on the edge of his hairline. At least he only had butterfly stitches there.

He was going out of this goddamn place tonight even if he had to walk his sorry ass back to the house in the goddamn snow.

  * ••••••



He paid no mind to the nurses and one of the doctors from before when they came back with some x-rays of his brain, though he was curious as fuck. They told him there was a slight shift due to the concussion – the fluid around the brain had moved. There was something about the scan being “off”, that they would like to ask him questions about his mental health. Billy was sure they knew already what was wrong. If there was anything wrong at all.

When the sky got black, Billy made another attempt to sit. After ten minutes of frustration and sweat caused by the pain, he was able to get himself into a sitting position. Next was standing up. That shit might be a tad bit harder.

It was.

It made his stomach churn in an uncomfortable way. His head pounded in the quick beat of his heart. The cold sweat was back and the world was swaying dangerously. He’d only moved two steps. His hands shook when he caught the edge of the nightstand. His legs almost gave out.

Billy stood like that for a while, willing his body to fucking calm down. How was he supposed to go back like this? Especially when his car was in front of the house and the snow had probably piled up even more.

Still, he removed the IV with a hiss and searched the room for his clothes. It took him half an hour to maneuver through the damn place, then another fifteen minutes to put on the jeans, sweater and jacket. The socks and boots were the hardest part. He almost threw up when he leaned down while sitting on the bed.

Shit, the concussion was bad. He knew he had to stay.

Bile rose up his throat and he had to face the ceiling so that he didn’t barf on the tiles. The back of his head hurt more than a few minutes ago. Everything spun. He gripped the edge of the bed, taking in shaky breaths. His ribs felt like they were opening inch by slow fucking inch.

Shit.

Even if he did leave the hospital unnoticed he wouldn’t be able to walk back to the house. He was going to faint just because he put his clothes on, not to mention going outside in the biting cold with wind so hard it bent the trees outside of Billy’s window.

The ringing in his ears was too loud for comfort and the sudden wave of heat made him wrestle his jacket off himself. The boots followed.

Billy curled back on the bed, facing the window. The pain was progressively getting worse. There was no way they’d discharge him now. Of course he had to fuck up.

His fingers curled in the sheets. Tears filled his eyes. It hadn’t been this bad for years. He wouldn’t be surprised if this time there were lasting effects from the injuries.

He started slipping in another minute, tripping back and forth between consciousness and blissful darkness.

Finally, the dark won out.

  * ••••••



When he came to, he was in a hospital grown again and was attached to an IV. Susan was asleep in the chair next to his bed.

Billy blinked out a few black spots out of his vision. He didn’t dare move his head. It was dark outside. He didn’t know if he had been out for a few hours or for the whole day.

“Billy?” Susan’s quiet voice startled him.

He quickly looked at her.

“Do you know who I am?”

Billy frowned. What the fuck was she talking about? Of fucking course he knew her.

“You’re Susan, Max’s mom.” he muttered when she got that panicky expression from before. Her lips twitched at his words, but the sigh she gave was one of relief.

“You tried to leave, didn’t you?” she clasped her hands together. She did that often.

Billy raised an eyebrow. The answer was obvious. Him being in his own clothes, with the boots by the bed, had spoken enough when he’d been found.

“You were out for a few days because of a few complications with your condition. But there’s no bleeding in the brain, so you won’t need surgery.” Susan kept her tone light, her voice quiet. Billy wouldn’t admit it but he was grateful of her mindfulness. Loud noises dug into his skull.

When she didn’t continue the conversation, he slowly turned his head to look outside. It was getting brighter. The sky got a purple tint.

He also wouldn’t admit that the silence was nice. He would be less likely to admit that Susan’s presence wasn’t a bother either. He blamed that on him being out of it. The moment his brain was fine, the anger would crawl back to the surface.

Susan left after another hour, saying that she had to drive Max to school. Billy didn’t dare comment about his father.

  * •••••



It was early morning when Hopper came by again.

Billy had been zoned out, looking out the window and daydreaming of cigarettes and long runs. This time, the door opening was loud enough to feel like a nail being hammered into his head. His facial muscles spasmed involuntary.

Hopper sat on the chair next to the bed, leaning his elbows on his knees.

“I thought I told you that you had to stay for a few more days.” he said, however his voice held no edges, nothing to make warning bells ring in Billy’s mind.

“Yes, sir.” Billy rasped out, swallowing with difficulty. Even if he wanted to cough, it wasn’t worth the pain, to be honest.

Hopper searched for something in his face. After a minute of silence he ran a hand over his face with a long sigh.

“We have your father in custody. Max pressed charges against him.”

Billy stopped breathing.

Oh, shit. Fuck.

He was in for a wild ride. This was going to suck so bad. The moment his father got out, Billy was going to get the beating of his life.

Billy pressed the apples of his palms against his eyes. The contact of his fingertips coincided with the wound at his hair line. He used the pain as an anchor.

Max just had to butt her way in, didn’t she? She was worse than him about not thinking of the consequences and that was something.

“Hey.” he caught Hopper say but it sounded far, far away.

The only thing he could hear was the drum of his heart, beating faster and faster. It skipped all the way to his throat when he felt a hand at his elbow, eliciting a full body flinch that made his head scream bloody murder.

“ _Jesus_ , kid. I need a nurse here!”

The sudden yell felt like a flash of lighting going through his head, leaving an echo of painful thunder in its wake. Then the ringing in his ears mixed in with the beat of his heart and the darkness had enough mercy to take him quicker this time.

  * ••••••



Billy started to hate waking up to darkness.

The only good thing was that he wasn’t in any pain. He risked it and moved his head left and right against the pillow. It was easier than he expected. Either he’d been dosed with the good stuff or he was healing.

He didn’t know what day it was or what time it was. The black sky gave nothing away but a few twinkling stars.

He felt more alert than he had been since his stay at the hospital.

Billy held a long monologue with himself whether or not he should try to stand on his feet and take another risk that could extend his misery in the hospital even more. In the end, the lack of things to do made the decision for him.

He sat up slowly, first leaning on his elbows, then when he didn’t feel like he was struck with a pipe across the head, he sat in the bed. After waiting patiently for five minutes to see if there would be a shift, he threw his legs over the edge.

Billy expected the worst and when it didn’t happen, he couldn’t help but sigh in relief. He could walk relatively normally. The coordination was off and he had a few constant black spots that wouldn’t disappear no matter how many times he blinked. The noises were still too loud.

It was probably going to go away.

What surprised him was that his clothes were still in the room, in the drawer of the nightstand. What a bunch of cretins. Even his boots were there. This was just ridiculous. He wouldn’t be awed if patients came and went as they pleased with such little thought thrown.

Putting his clothes on was easier this time. When he didn't feel like he was going to topple over, he opened the door.

The brightness of the hospital made him hiss. It was a bit hard to look out for any staff when he couldn’t fucking _see_ properly.

Fuck this shit.

He was going out of this place, even if he had to pick a fight to do so.

Turned out that with the right maneuvers and enough common sense to hide when he heard voices, he was able to sneak his way out.

No, seriously, what a bunch of idiots. If a concussed patient who had to keep his eyes barely open to move and mostly felt along the walls could get out, this place was shit.

Billy walked as quickly as he could, hoping he wouldn’t be seen in the darkness. It was a high hope giving the fact that there was snow and his clothes were dark so he was a literal stain you could see from a mile.

Speaking of miles, he was maybe four away from the house, at best. Under normal circumstances he could take them for less than an hour. Now, though, the snow was an obvious problem. There was more of it, reaching mid-calf, seeping through his jeans.

Billy zipped his leather jacket up, plucked his hands into his pockets and stated walking. He went along the edge of the forest, looking around himself when he felt like he was being watched.

Then out of fuck knows where, a little girl appeared.

“SWEET MOTHER OF FLYING FUCK!” he let out one of those quiet shrieks he laughed about when he saw on TV.

Only Billy’s fast reflexes saved him from falling on his ass. That, coupled with the scream, had his ears start ringing again. He covered them on a reflex with a groan, bending at the waist into himself.

He just wanted to go back to the house and lie in his own fucking bed, under covers that didn’t reek of bleach. Better yet, he wanted to do that in Cali where it was warm.

Billy flinched when a woven clad hand covered one of his own. The girl’s eyes were too old for her young face. The wild hair made her seem like out of a fairytale.

When the ringing subsided Billy lowered his hands. The kid moved hers away as well.

“Listen, I don’t know where you came from but you should probably go back home.”

She tilted her head at him. “You’re sick.” she muttered in a slow manner.

Billy heaved out a sigh. “It’s dangerous.” she didn’t react. “And I’m a bad person.” A blink. “I’ve hurt people.”

“Me too.”

Billy opened his mouth, closed it after he processed the words.

“I’m an asshole with anger issues. Ask my step-sister.”

“I get angry too.”

He ran a hand through his hair, taken aback with the jolt of pain when his fingers reached the back of his head. He felt rough scabs. A double head injury. He had no idea how he hadn’t been in need of surgery.

“Look, kid, I’m tired and—”

“You want to go home. To bed. Cali.”

Billy froze. His focus upped to a hundred percent all of a sudden. Then he looked up at the still dark sky.

“Great. Hallucinations now.” he rubbed at the stubble on his face. He could barely feel his fingers.

The girl took his free hand and started dragging him towards the forest.

Oh, hell no.

“Where—”

“Warm.” she said, giving him a _look_. Billy didn’t know what it was exactly that made him follow her.

  * ••••••



The cabin she led him to looked like a place for a murderer. Maybe this was the daughter, sent out to scout for victims. Nobody questioned kids. Nobody thinks kids are evil. Or maybe this kid was a psychopath and he was going to get chopped to pieces. Ah, the wonders of the world. Nothing could faze him right now.

She warned him about a trip wire. Nothing strange about that, nope.

He stepped over it, stumbling a bit on his way. It was getting brighter and it fucked with his head.

The locks clicked open by themselves. At least the inside of the cot was warm and cozy, albeit a bit messy due to obvious renovations. The locks clicked, again by themselves, then the TV turned on and the blanket on the couch just curled into a ball.

He had some weird-ass hallucination.

The girl pointed the couch.

“I have no idea how I dreamed you up, Elfy, but I’m never leaving hospitals before I have to, ever again.”

“Elfy?” she tilted her head again as she took off her gloves.

“Dunno. You remind me of a short elf or something.”

“Elf?” if nothing, she looked even more confused.

Billy waved a hand in a dismissing manner. “Forget it.”

He lied back on the couch, certain that he was going to get himself killed by a kid, but still, his eyes closed and he was ready drifting. He barely even spared a though about how his boots moved like something was pulling them, how his jacket did the same and wrestled its way off of him _or_ how a blanket covered him from head to toe.

It was probably the painkillers from the hospital. Turns out it was the good stuff, eh?

  * ••••••



He woke up to the smell of Eggos.

_The fuck?_

Billy opened his eyes with a quiet exhale.

This wasn’t the hospital. Or the house.

His first instinct was to sit up. It was a shitty move because his stomach made itself present with the bile that rose up his throat. Never mind his head that yowled like a thousand needles had pierced his skull.

The sound of the tap being put on and off sounded in the distance. Billy opened his eyes just as the girl from his hallucinations gave him a cup of water.

“Elfy?” he whispered.

Elfy nodded, her curls bouncing along with the movement.

“Oh my shit.” Billy took the cup and downed the water, leaned forward and stared up at the girl. If somebody who didn't know their history saw them, they'd probably think it was friends hanging out.

First of all – he was alive. So, the option of a psychopathic, murderous girl was out. Second – she’d apparently taken him to her home. So he couldn’t scratch off the possibility of a murderous relative.

“Fuck my life.” he rubbed his eyes and shook his head.

When he opened them, another cup of water flew into his hand. Billy stared at it before chancing a glance at Elfy. She looked back with unhidden curiosity. He blinked furiously, feeling his face contort into a funny expression he couldn’t stop because a cup just flew into his fucking hand. _Flew._

He lifted a finger in the air after he downed the second cup. “I need a second.”

He was just about to get up when both of the cups flew into the kitchen sink.

“Maybe an hour, actually.”

Billy stood up on shaky legs. He didn’t know when was the last time he’d eaten anything but he felt the weakness from the lack of it.

Elfy lifted a hand. Suddenly he was seated back onto the couch. She rubbed a drop of blood from her nose and went to the sink to wash her hands. As she wiped them dry, she nodded her chin to the small table at the wall which had two plates with Eggos on them.

“Dinner.” Elfy said and sat down on one of the chairs at the table. She waited for him to realize what was going on, for him to drag his ass up to wash his hands, then sit down across from her.

He didn’t think he’d enjoy an Eggo so much in his entire life. Max had developed a weird obsession with them after she’d met with her little pack of nerds. At the thought, Elfy glanced up at him.

He probably looked like shit. He didn’t even want to think the state of his hair or how bruised he was. He hadn’t seen his reflection yet.

“Bathroom.” She said and pointed at a door to Billy’s right. It seemed like somebody had just plastered it in the middle of the room, along with the obviously new wall that had wood in a totally different color from the rest.

“So, you’re a telepath?”

“Kinda.”

“Telekinetic too?”

Elfy nodded.

“You gonna kill me?”

Elfy shook her head for a ‘no’.

“Why did you help me? Didn’t your parents tell you that it’s wrong to speak with strangers, let alone take them to your home? That somebody could hurt you?”

“You’re sick.” was all she said.

Billy swallowed the rest of his waffle and wondered just how more fucked he could get. His father was going to go full out on him - he ran away from the hospital while he was concussed and now there was a probability this girl’s parents, because she couldn’t be living on her own in the fucking woods, could wring his neck once they got home.

“Papa.” Billy’s eyes snapped to her face. “He hurt you?” the emotion in her wasn’t exactly pity, more like something sad that sat curled on the inside. When Billy rasped out a ‘yeah’, she exhaled. “Mine did too.”

Ah crap.

He was so, so, royally fucked.

“Before Jim came. Jim is nice.”

And it got worse.

He swallowed audibly in the quiet of the cot.

“Is he… Is he keeping you against your will?” only Billy could stumble upon a possibly kidnapped girl with superpowers when he was running away from a damn hospital because he didn't want supervision for the marvellous concussion he had.

“No.” she said after a pause and didn’t elaborate. “Protects.” Elfy mumbled while looking down at her plate. “He protects me.”

Okay.

Either she was telling the truth or this was a classic Stockholm syndrome. Maybe he had leverage. He couldn’t see any bruises but he was well aware of how calculated people could be, like his father had been, picking spots that wouldn’t betray anything.

Elfy was giving him that _look_ again.

Billy took the dishes to the sink and washed them while she stood to his right to dry them off. He caught sight of a tattoo on one of her wrists. 11. Fuck, what had he gotten himself into? Tattooed kids in the forest in the middle of nowhere? He needed a cigarette. And a drink. He wasn’t dying before he’s had at least one of the afore mentioned.

A series of knocks sounded at the door, making him tense from head to toe.

Elfy didn’t seem surprised. Billy heard the locks click to open the door.

“Hey, kid.”

No. Way.

Chief Hopper.

Because why the fuck not?


	2. Keep playing it cool but it's time to change the mood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I didnt expect such positive reactions! You guys made my whole day and cheered me up when I was just about done with everything, thank you so much for the nice words and for the encouragement!!!! (‘∀’●)♥ ♥
> 
> Also, the title of this chapter is from The Neighbourhood's song "Blue".
> 
> Sorry if there are any mistakes and I hope you enjoy!

“Sorry I’m late. And I have to leave in a—”

Hopper stopped once his eyes landed on Billy. The relaxed expression changed with something Billy could only describe as a ‘done with all this bullshit’ type.

“I’m not even surprised anymore.” Hopper murmured and threw his hat on the couch before heading towards the phone on the wall. “Did you know that I’ve been searching for your sorry ass the whole day?”

“Found him first.” Elfy appeared at Billy’s side.

His heart palpitated in his already sore chest. “ _Jesus!”_

Hopper looked from Billy to her and back. He pointed at Billy.

“You were supposed to be in the hospital.”

“The stench killed me.” Billy shrugged.

He hated hospitals. They meant he’d gotten beaten within an inch of his life and that it would be worse when he’d gotten back home. They meant white at every corner, stony faces of doctors. They meant memories of a heart monitor going flat.

Billy looked away.

“Listen, I’m leaving either way. I was headed to the house but she," Billy nodded at Elfy. "startled the living shit out of me on the way there and dragged me here.”

Hopper’s eyebrows lifted a bit at ‘the house’. He didn’t comment, thankfully.

“You’re not walking back. The snow got worse.” Hopper stepped away from the phone, instead opting to take off his coat and place it on the hanger. “I’d call your step-mother if I were you.”

Billy looked at his feet. He knew he had to face her sooner or later. And Max. Though he didn’t think it would be wise to go near Max, considering the fact that he was too pissed that she'd arranged him a marvelous beating from his dad when he got back. Rage just did _wonderful_ things to the interior design in his mind when he got in the zone, her whole group of friends had witnessed that when he’d verbally and physically threatened the Sinclair kid, when he’d beat the shit out of Harrington. It was better if he wasn’t at the house now.

Funny how the thought hadn’t crossed his mind when he’d been headed there.

Elfy stepped in front of him, looking serious. Angry even.

With his luck she probably knew them too. Or better yet, she was a part of Max’s nerd pack. Fuck’s sake, those kids were everywhere nowadays.

But she only kept staring at him. She didn’t utter a word or haul any objects at him. They stood like that for a full minute. Hopper hadn’t budged, probably aware of what was going on. Considering the fact that that she was using her powers so freely in front of Billy himself, she was probably doing it on a daily basis.

“Don’t do that anymore.” she told him, snapping him out of his thoughts. And he knew she knew, that she meant for him to not hurt _them_. It had an or else tied into it.

“I’m trying.”

He really had been. He didn’t even spare them a look when he saw them – not the geek pack, nor Harrington, his ex and her new boyfriend. Hell, he’d barely spoken with Max the past few weeks.

Elfy gave a solemn nod and pointed to the bathroom. “Shower. Go.”

And Billy went.

  * •••••



He looked like utter shit. Even after he’d washed himself.

The wounds at the back of his head and near his hairline had scabbed over now so he’d shrugged and just washed his hair. It had been too disgusting for him not to. The left side of his face had taken most of the impact. He hadn’t even felt his eyebrow had split, he’ll probably have a scar there. There were cuts and bruises all over his face, shades of purple, green and yellow being the dominating palette.

His lip was split badly too. He hadn’t noticed that either. Probably the shock.

When he’d looked down at himself, his torso was a mess. Same palette as his face, only the purple was triple in size. It was going to take a while to heal.

It still hurt like a bitch, now that he was fully off any pain meds he’d been pumped with in the hospital. But at least there was nothing broken.

He put on his clothes but was really uncomfortable with going commando while a little girl was in the same room. It just felt wrong on all levels. So he just swallowed back a sigh and put his worn underwear.

Billy’s hair dripped down to his sweater no matter how much he toweled it to make it go dry. He doubted Elfy could magically fix that. She was talking with Hopper at the small table in the kitchen when he came out.

Not only that but there was a walkie-talkie between them and Billy heard what was unmistakably Max and her pack of geeks speaking one over the other.

So he was right after all.

Billy rubbed his eyes with a hand. It was becoming a natural thing for him to do. He couldn’t stop his face from doing a grimace at the sheer loudness of it all, nor the flinch when the little shits started yelling all of a sudden.

The fucking ringing started again, as did the sharp throbbing pain that closed around his whole brain. Billy heard Hopper say something and all the loud sounds vanished.

He wasn’t aware enough to tell how much time had passed or when he’d laid down on the couch again but when he came to, he saw the ceiling.

“You gotta stop fainting on me, Hargrove.” Hopper’s voice reached his ears.

Billy blinked a few times before sitting up.

Strike one.

The room tilted, making him squeeze his eyes shut. His teeth clacked together at the now familiar throb in his skull. He lifted one hand to touch the scab on the back of his head, just to be sure the wound was closed.

Strike two.

The mere press of his index finger increased the pulsing pain by at least fourty percent.

He waited a few breaths to open his eyes again. The quiet was both a blessing and concerning because it only meant he was being watched.

Once his eyes were open again, he found out why he was more uncomfortable than before.

Steve Harrington was leaning against the wall near the kitchen table. He looked like shit, almost as wrecked as when Billy had a go with him. He wasn’t spotting bruises or wounds like then but the expression was the same as the one Billy had seen on him the first day at school after the--

A glass cup flew up to his again.

Billy shifted his eyes to Elfy, lifting an eyebrow. She blinked back. He downed the whole cup, refusing to look at Harrington. After he placed it on the table in front of the couch, he stood up slowly.

Strike three.

A wave of nausea, pain, blurred vision and ringing kicked the breath out of his lungs in a gasp.

He fell back down on the couch, bouncing once. Billy covered his eyes, curling into himself while muttering a song consisting of different variations of ‘fuck’. Pressing his palms over his face actually made it worse. He didn't want them to see him like this, however, so he sucked it up and left his hands where they were.

His jaw was clenched so tight that the pressure was becoming unbearable.

Nobody said a thing which kind of made it worse. They were watching him at his weakest and the thing was that Harrington actually did have the right after what Billy had done to him. He had the full right to even beat the shit out of him when Billy was in this state. He was used to it either way, his father did it all the time.

The cushion to his right dipped. The blanket got thrown over his head and small palms pulled Billy’s hands away from his face once it was fully out of view.

“Stop.” Elfy said.

She knew.

He shouldn't feel comforted by a telepathic and telekinetic girl that was a part of Max’s geek pack. Especially not when there were other people in the same room.

Like a total loser he lost consciousness.

  * •••••



“Yeah, he’s fine, Max. Just out of it. El found him wandering near the forest.”

Harrington.

Who was talking to Max.

Through that walie-talkie thingy.

Man, his thoughts were so jumbled up. Like he’d made extra scrambled eggs with them. Fuck.

“I'll update you if anything changes. Go tell your mom.”

Billy couldn't hear exactly what Max answered. He opened his eyes slowly. He didn't dare move in any position now, not worth it to repeat the stunt from earlier.

Harrington came into his line of vision, all seriousness with crossed arms in front of his chest. It was weird on a goofy person like him.

“You look like shit.” was not what Billy expected.

“Eh. Had worse.” and he had, a concussion was nothing compared to too many broken bones - those hurt constantly, healed slower than anything.

Harrington blinked down at him. It was obvious that Hopper and Elfy were somewhere outside, had left him to keep an eye on Billy in case he decided to leave.

Billy closed his eyes. Sleep was never unneeded.

“I’m not gonna make the same mistake twice and run away.”

He didn't get an answer. The silent treatment was good, better have quiet than be interrogated.

The guilt gnarled at his insides. He hadn't been in such close proximity to either of Max’s friends since, well, since he almost got his balls turned into mashed potatoes.

He was hungry and hunger always made him more edgy. He might be able to keep anything showing on the surface if he didn't have to talk.

“Did they tell you what the diagnosis was?”

And there it went.

“Concussion.” Billy murmured, hoping that Harrington would catch up and lower his fucking voice. This small space made sounds echo around.

He actually did, this time it was a quiet “Not that.”

“There’s more? Oh, the joy. Don’t really give a fuck.”

The silence that followed was not an end of the conversation. Billy could feel the fucking tension seeping into his skin.

“They didn't tell you.” was what Harrington said pensively and if Billy could, he’d roll his eyes.

It took him a lot of control to not snap his teeth at him. The only thing keeping him at bay was the pain he knew wouldn't be worth a few biteful comments.

But then the guilt came back at his doorstep, making him think of Elfy, making it worse. Somehow a girl he’d met less than 24 hours ago had every emotion in him stir back to life. Only it was a simultaneous process that coincided with the misery, anger, guilt and anxiousness that were too fucking loud to drown, wouldn't behave like the rest of the feelings.

“After the first attempt to sneak out, a shift in the fluid around your brain happened again and you lost some of your memories.”

Billy almost stopped breathing. Now it made more sense why Susan had asked him if he'd known her.

“Then you hallucinated that a nurse was your father and you almost knocked him out.”

That was a new one.

He was surprised he’d had the guts to do it. Even if it was while he was drugged and with a brain injury while hallucinating. When it came to his father any power he had disappeared. The mistake he made, the one that brought him to this state, occurred only because his mom got dragged into it.

“Why are you here, Harrington?”

At any given time he would have sprung him a new one, would have let the anger out. Now he was in a state odd enough for him to reign it in.

“Susan asked me.”

Billy’s eyelid twitched.

“Susan asked you to keep an eye on the person who almost killed you in a fit of rage, left you with bruises that lasted weeks and you said _yes_?”

He didn't want to look at Harrington, thus he didn't even bother to open his eyes.

“You people in this town are fucking idiots, the whole lot. Even the hospital is ridiculous, especially when they couldn't catch a concussed patient leave when said patient could barely fucking see. Jesus.” Billy had the sudden urge to rub his eyes again.

“You're an asshole.” there was something in Harrington's voice, maybe irritation.

“Revaltion of the century. Might take the crown from my dad one day.” the bitter laugh that followed made his chest ache.

The tell-tale tickling at the back of his throat signalled that he would have to cough soon. That didn't sit well with him when he would have to exert his body more than it needed. He had to hold it in, it might even go away.

A minute later and he was biting his ass. It was always easy to say it, but when that sensation in his throat got more and more unbearable he was barely holding it in. His lips were tight together, breathing as slow as possible.

Ah, shit.

Afraid to cough. He'd become such a wuss.

“What are you doing?” Harrington spoke up again, closer now. “Hargrove?” and closer.

Billy just wanted some silence and no people.

“Hargrove?” there was a note of alertness.

He couldn't hold it in. The first cough was mild, in the back of his throat, and as if a dam had broken, he started coughing uncontrollably. Keeping his eyes closed still, Billy sat up, leaning his left shoulder on the back of the couch, legs drawn to his chest. This position had him feel less like he was drowning.

Curling up was his default state with this condition.

The coughs rattled him to the bone. It was like his whole body was lit in pain but his chest was what was ripping apart. He was sure that if he actually looked it would be whole. Still, that didn't help.

“Shit, shit, shit _, shit_.” Harrington was close enough to make Billy flinch.

Man, he hated people seeing him weak and that's what's been happening since this crap started.

As if a switch had been turned off, the coughs finally stopped, leaving him gasping for air. He covered his ears, gently resting his forehead on his knees.

That stupid fucking ringing.

Instead of him getting his breath back, it got harder to get oxygen into his lungs when the pain consumed him from the inside out. The only thing apart from it that he could feel was the rapid thump of his heart, like his personal drums of hell.

His toes curled, muscles spamming because he wasn't fainting. It hurt so much, _so much_ , and _he wasn't fainting_ because even if he would have felt like an idiot if it happened, it was preferable to this torture.

Soft hands covered his.

Only Elfy’s were this small. How long had he been like this?

He didn't think she couldn't take his pain away, though the comfort that she was there was enough.

It was slow, the process of coming down. The pain subsided bit by agonizing bit until it was something bearable enough for him to uncurl. He was sweaty now too.

Billy lifted his face, letting his hands drop from his ears when he was sure it was safe. Elfy patted his knee.

“Hey, Elfy.” he rasped out. Had he been screaming? He didn't know honestly.

“Hey.”

“ _Oh my God_ , I didn't even know what to do, he just— and— then the—” he heard Harrington talking from behind the closed door to the second room.

Hopper answered something, only quieter enough that Billy couldn't catch it.

“He was _screaming_ , Hop!” Harrington raising his voice made him grimace. Guess it also answered Billy's question.

Elfy patted his knee again before standing up and silently rummaging through the kitchen. Billy’s eyes slipped closed. His hands lay limp near his ankles, he didn't have the energy to move them.

Harrington’s voice was still audible, albeit less panicked now. Billy had probably scared the shit out of him if he'd started screaming out of nowhere.

The smell of Eggos made his stomach rumble. At least it wasn't a yowl, those were long and loud and would have probably triggered something in his apparently sensitive hearing.

Elfy sat down in front of him and plucked the TV on, it was on silent. He took the Eggo she gave him. They ate while Billy watched the wall and Elfy - ridiculous commercials. He used his hair as a curtain against the light of the screen, he hadn't cut it since he'd landed in his hellhole and now it was longer than it had ever been.

When Hopper and Harrington appeared, Elfy pointed to the kitchen, probably to wordlessly tell them there were Eggos for them too. This kid was more considerate than any adult Billy had ever met in his life.

Harrington's eyes were on him. He didn't give a flying fuck right now.

Billy was wondering how he could go back to the house when even mild noises bothered him. If a car drove right next to him, he was sure it would result in the same crap he just went through minutes ago. If somebody raised their voice just so - same result. Music was out of the question. He wondered if the click of a lighter would do it as well.

That reminded him.

Billy slowly sat with his back to the couch so that he could have Hopper in his line of vision, careful to not look at the TV.

“You have a smoke?”

Hopper didn't seem surprised but Harrington’s eyebrows flew up while his head did a movement like he’d heard wrong.

“No.” Elfy answered instead.

The deliberately slow turn of his neck ruined it but he made a face at her.

“Elfy, you suck.”

The side of her mouth turned upwards a smudge.

  * •••••



It was all awkward silence for a whole hour. Billy didn't know how both Hopper and Harrington kept it for that long.

“Seeing as he’ll be sleeping here again, I suggest you go home.” Hopper told Harrington while he lit another cigarette.

Billy wanted to protest, he just knew it was dumb when the growl of the engine might make him faint. A-fucking-gain. So, no way in hell, he had little dignity and was planning on keeping it.

“Yeah, I…” Billy saw Harrington run a hand through his hair. “I’ll go.”

Billy still felt the stare. He didn't know what that thing that twisted in his stomach was. It stayed there even after Harrington left.

“So, not surprised that you met a girl with superpowers, Hargrove?”

Billy didn't want to look at Hopper either. He was in that unbalanced state where just the right lighting was enough to convince him that his father was in the room.

“I guess it's a side-effect.”

“A side effect I hope you won't be talking about with anybody.”

Ah, that was the problem.

“I ain't telling about Elfy’s existence because I didn't see anything when I stumbled upon your super secret murderer-style cabin in the woods after I ran out of a hospital. While still with a concussion.”

Billy might have imagined it but something like a snort sounded from Hopper’s direction. Then a more serious air wrapped around them.

“I'm not going to make you talk about it now but Max told me _exactly_ what happened. So bear in mind that I have firsthand intel. No pulling shit like sprouting a story about a garage accident or how you got drunk, got beat up, then went home like that, got it?"

Billy didn't even have it in him to be surprised that Hopper had listened in to his conversation with Susan. Question was, who else also had?

“Yes, sir.”

“And drop the ‘sir’ thing.”

How do you respond to that? He couldn't even nod for fuck's sake.

  * •••••



After sixteen hours of sleep,  Billy woke up feeling better than the night before. He ate Eggos with Elfy. Nobody had actually corrected him when he'd called her that so he let it stick.

The noises were more tolerable. His energy depleted quickly, however. The moment he ate, he went back to the couch to take a nap that resulted in him sleeping until the next morning.

It left him waking up more groggy but if sleep was what his body needed to heal, then fine.

Harrington was there again. Billy didn't say anything, just held eye contact for a bit, while looking at him upside down, before closing his eyes.

The rest of the week passed with him sleeping on Hopper’s couch and he had his condition to thank that he hadn't been kicked out. Harrington had been there every day, after school, until it was time to pick the brats from the Arcade.

Billy hadn't heard from Max since the incident.

He knew they had to talk at some point, not only her but Susan too. He dreaded the time when he'd be face to face with his father. It sent him into overdrive mode that made him jumpy and snappy.

Elfy had her moments of said jumpiness and snappiness too, though not as often.

He had small talk with Harrington once in a while. Whenever he thought of giving an actual apology for what had done _that_ night, the one he would have killed him had it not been for Max, his throat constricted. It wasn't that hard to say three words, yet he couldn't.

Because he didn't know if he was actually sorry or not. It was a blurred line. He was sorry for the damage it caused but he was too angry, still. He was angry that his father had taken it out on him when Max had sneaked out. And he didn't even know for what.

For what exactly had they taken his Camaro, what exactly they were doing at Byers’ house, what was going on at all - he wouldn't even find out.

His pride took the say in it, refused to let him apologize for almost ending somebody's life. Jesus, he was such an asswipe.

Harrington's eyes were on him again, after the God knows which sigh Billy had let out. Elfy and Hopper were out, it was just them in the cot.

It was now or never. Today was the last day, he didn't give care if they had to drag his unconscious ass to the house, it was too much being cooped up in here if it was enough for him to want to go back _there_. And he knew that the second he started going back to school, the mode of ignore towards Max and her friends would be back. He won't do anything after this moment.

Billy watched the screen of the TV without seeing. His senses were returning to normal now, today he'd been able to watch the snow outside for a full twenty seconds before his eyes had teared up and he had to go back inside.

He looked at Harrington, immediately catching brown eyes.

Now or never.

“I'm sorry.”

Harrington frowned. “What?” he did that head tilt, signalling that he thought he wasn't hearing right. It was always amusing to watch.

“For using you as a punching bag.”

Harrington’s face did something - it wasn't anger, it wasn’t pity, it wasn't confusion, it—Billy didn't know what it was. Like the damn concussion had taken his precious ability to judge people's emotions.

“And almost killing you.”

Harrington’s eyebrows twitched like they didn’t know which way to go. He seemed more confused than Billy had felt the entire week.

“And almost giving you an irreversible head condition.”

Now Harrington looked like he was solving a math problem that was out of this dimension. Fuck’s sake.

“Or, a worse head condition than the one you already have. If you’re involved in all this spooky slash magic-y crap,” he waved his index finger in the air in a circle. “that’s been floating about, you’re already fucked in the head.”

His heart was driving him nuts, beating hard in his chest like he was in another ‘pain attack’, as he’d started calling them. He was well aware he was anxious, that he was worried. Worried about what Harrington would say or worried about his reaction? He hadn’t known Harrington for a long time and that first week when they actually interacted in a way that wasn’t connected to basketball Billy knew Harrington didn’t keep quiet. He always had something to say.

Now, he was-- he was pensive, when Billy threw him a glance. He averted his eyes when his brain caught on that Harrington had been observing him the entire time. Harrington was always watching him when Billy spared him a look here and there.

Since when did stares become unpleasant occurrences? The ones from his father not counting, those were always awful.

“I’m not gonna forgive you just like that, Hargrove. One sorry’s not gonna cut it after the stunt you pulled with me and Lucas. It'll take more than that.”

Good. Billy expected that outcome, he wasn’t caught off guard.

“Shocker. And here I was, expecting us to start braiding each other’s hair and gossip over the phone for hours on end. A shame, really.” once he was back in a place he knew, he could look at Harrington again. “I’m not saying it because I expect a change, Harrington. I just wanted to say it, you interpret it however you want. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

He switched back to looking at the TV and the Eggos commercial. That crap was starting to grow on him.

“The moment I’m out of here, shit will go back to normal and we won’t have to talk anymore.”

Anything Harrington might have said was shot down because Hopper and Elfy came back. Yet Billy kept feeling like a page of a book – stared at in the hopes to understand the correct use of the words, to get the meaning of the story behind them.

Whatever.

Hopper was driving him back to the house soon.

Only, there had been some sort of change in plans, one that he hadn’t been informed about, because next thing he knew, Harrington was the one driving him towards the house.

Billy breathed deeply, in part pissed that when it concerned these people he always knew nothing and in part because of the throbbing headache that was a misery on its own. Hopper had gotten him a prescription from the hospital - at first Billy took it. That was until it started screwing with him more than helping him – he preferred to be in pain and actually _be_ aware of everything around him.

The light in the house was on.

He couldn’t move a muscle. The duffel bag in his lap was like lead, pinning him in place. Actually, it was the snow in front of the house, or more like the cluster of blood right next to Billy’s door, visible to him like a fucking neon sign. That, coupled with Harrington’s blatant staring (wasn't he tired of doing that non stop?) was enough to make shit catch up with him.

With a sigh and a low mutter of ‘thanks’ he got out, closed the door when his boots crunched in the snow.

The keys were still in his pocket. He could always take the car and leave. The money was still with him. He’d have to clean his baby up, though, she was covered in snow, only a few glimmers of blue here and there from the mostly snow-less doors.

Max hurled the front door open with determination written in her posture and on her face.

“Well?” she says, gesturing furiously with one arm. Some things were normal, at least.

Billy shot one last look at his car before heading inside. Only when the front door clicked shut did he hear Harrington drive away.

The blood was gone. Not that he'd expected it to be there. His eyes stayed glued to the floor. He remembered where it had dripped but he couldn't remember what exactly his last day in Cali consisted of.

“Billy?” Max's voice brought him back. He'd been standing there for minutes.

They were making dinner.

Max took a cautious step forwards. Billy dropped the duffel bag on the floor. He lifted one hand to his mouth, as he did the other but to stop Max from coming closer.

His breathing had gone heavy. Bile rose up his throat. He felt vulnerable. Too vulnerable. He was definitely going to lash out at her the moment she crossed a line and the more time he spent at that cabin, the more he became aware just how much of his father he had in him.

Max, at least, was smart enough to be cautious. She didn't move.

Billy exhaled through his nose slowly. “I’ll just go to my room.” he sounded worse than when he'd left the cot. “Not hungry.”

He was, but it was going to come back up for sure. Wasn't worth wasting the food. Max opened her mouth and closed it soon after. He probably looked convincing enough.

Billy honestly expected to see his father while walking down the corridor or when he opened the door to his room.

Nothing was touched. This was where it got ugly - there was still red on the wardrobe from when his head had made contact. He could still hear the dull crack his skull had made.

Shit, it had been a long time since a beating had impacted him like this. Even the ones that had longer lasing effects had nothing on this. He'd never felt more like a stranger in his body than now.

He dropped the duffel bag on the floor by the bed. He had to return the borrowed clothes to Hopper.

His pack of cigarettes was still in front of the mirror.

When he looked at himself, Billy saw the inside of the shield he'd built around himself - all the narcissism, the assholery, the abuse he too spread like a disease. And now that hollow guy from the inside had peeked behind the corner.

He'd slept for the majority of the time while he was with Hopper and Elfy. That did nothing about the purple under his eyes. It had gotten worse, actually. His face was still bruised - split lip and brow with scabs now as well. He still had to apply butterfly stitches to the wound at his hair line, just in case. The dead expression finished it off - the last time he'd seen that reflection was after his mom had died.

Maybe it was because it was his brain that got fucked up this time. Maybe because his mom’s death anniversary went to shit. Maybe because he'd been stripped bare in front of people he didn't want to see that side of him. Maybe because he had to stay with half of those people in a cot in the woods because loud noises had brought him ‘pain attacks'.

He didn't know anything anymore.

Billy opened up his window and debated whether he should have a smoke or just go to his car.

In the end, he chainsmoked on the window, freezing his ass off enough to feel something other than that clawing fear that gnarled on his stomach and guts. He made sure that Susan and Max were still in the kitchen before he went to take a shower and brush his teeth. Hopper had given him a razor, which helped make him look less like that hippie dude down his old street in Cali.

It was a bitch to shave. The result, though,  gave him a small dose of comfort. Nonetheless, the bruises were still there, as were the split lip and brow and the long gash near his hairline. He wondered if what he was feeling now while he stood braced with his hands on the sink was how Harrington had felt after Billy had beat his pretty face up.

Billy tried going to bed. It resulted in him tossing and turning for hours on end until he threw the covers off himself, grabbed his pillow and blanket, dragged his ass to his car and locked himself in it. It was cold as balls but it would make his mind feel safe enough for him to fall asleep.

He dug up the sweater from the bag hidden in the back, right behind the driver’s seat, kept for emergencies when he couldn't fucking stay in that house and needed basic things. One of which was a thick sweater to keep him warm.

Once that was on him, he was fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Would you mind telling me what you thought of the chapter?


	3. How I wish I was joking with you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much for the encouragement, guys, your comments keep me going with this baby! ♥
> 
> The title of the chappie is from The Neighbourhood's "Too Serious".
> 
> WARNING: In this chapter there will be mentioned a slur word (f*g), only in a flashback of Billy's, but I thought it would be best to warn you guys about it.
> 
> Any mistakes are my own and I hope you enjoy!

Loud thumps woke him up abruptly, making instinct take over. His back was to the door, breathing kept to the minimum.

Max did a complicated array of expressions before she settled on resignation with her lips pushed tight together. Billy put on his boots, took his crap and got out the car.  Max waited for him at the door of the house, closing it after him.

Susan rushed out of the kitchen with worry edged onto her face. Why did she even bother was what Billy couldn't comprehend.

“We couldn't find you in the morning and we thought you'd--”

“Couldn't sleep.” Billy shrugged. He didn't know how to feel about Susan. So he left it for when he was more like a human being.

They let him go to his room without any interruption. His hair was still wet at his nape, an annoying reminder that he couldn't even blow-dry it because of the wound on the back of his head. When he looked at the calendar in the hallway he saw that about two weeks had passed since he'd last been under this roof.

Today was a Monday. It was still early enough that Max might not be late for classes if he hurried up and drove past the speed limit. He didn't want to be here either way.

He didn't even look at himself and the poor state of his hair in the mirror. He put on some clean jeans, kept the tee and the sweatshirt he'd slept in because who gave a fuck when he wasn't going to school either way, and that thick pair of boots he was happy he'd bought.

Max was waiting for Susan to get ready, sitting on the couch, flipping though channels.

“C'mon Max, you’ll be late.” his voice startled her and her head snapped towards him. Susan did the same thing, only she almost dropped her cup of coffee. “Is there any coffee left?”

“Uh…” Max pointed at the kitchen. It kinda reminded him of Elfy.

Billy went to the coffee maker, spilled every last drop of its contents in the closest mug and downed it in four long gulps. Since he was an asshole with a reputation, he didn't even bother washing it.

He stalked towards the door, snapping his fingers at Max to make her hurry up.

“Billy, I don't think you should be going to school yet.” Susan said hurriedly, hand twitching like she wanted to extend it.

“I'm not, I'm only driving her. Max, c'mon.” he left the door open for her and took the broom that sat perched next to it.

It took him about a minute to clean up the snow that had covered up his precious baby for days. By the time he was done he was freezing his ass off once more.

He couldn't even slam his door out of fear he might trigger another ‘pain attack’. He didn't dare put on the music, sure that it would result in a lot of misery for him, as much as his brain was craving to hear it. Max kept stealing glances directed at him. Compared to Harrington’s blatant staring for the past week, this was a piece of cake, to be honest.

Billy tapped his fingers to the beat of a song that was only in his head. It was enough to calm him down a bit, lighting a cigarette made it even better.

He let his eyes close briefly when they were waiting at a stop light either way. After a full two weeks of no nicotine, it was like a dose of sweet indulgence, no matter the fact he smoked half a pack last night on the window.

Billy was more careful when he drove. He knew that was the biggest reason Susan didn’t want him driving – that he might lose it while on the road with her daughter in the passenger seat. Billy didn’t think he had anything to prove to her. Still, he kept the speed limit; he didn’t get loose or relaxed enough to slip into a daze. He had all of his senses on the road.

The sunglasses helped somewhat, making it bearable enough for his eyes with all that snow. He was taking a big risk here, one that involved Max and as much as he was the antagonist in her life, quite literally, he didn’t want to be responsible for her death. He blamed Elfy for the sudden lack of animosity and maybe the fact that they hadn’t seen each other for half a month. At least, _he_ hadn’t seen Max – he had no idea whether she’d been at the hospital or not.

Billy was able to drive her with two minutes for her to spare, faster than he’d thought they’d make it.

Max wasn’t with her skateboard, the snow made it impossible for her to skate unless she wanted to end up worse than Billy - with a skull fracture that could result in death.

Billy moved his hands from the steering wheel to his lap, leaving the car working. She wanted to say something, he was feeling generous enough to let her have the time instead of barking at her to go to class. Especially when her pack of geeks had noticed the car, had huddled in a loose circle and were whispering with their arms shooting in all directions. The kid with the bowl cut was the only one trying to calm down that other one, the tallest of them all, with the sharp scowl edged into his face.

When Billy’s eyes wandered, he saw a red BMW and inside was Harrington. He’d probably driven the little pests to school. So why the fuck wasn’t he leaving for his own damn classes? As discretely as he could, Billy leaned back further in his seat in hopes that Harrington might not notice him. Despite the fact that only one person owned a loud (understatement), dark blue Camaro.

It wasn’t that Billy was worried, it was just the uncomfortable sleazy ball that had curled in his stomach. And right now he was avoiding every fucking thing that brought out that emotion, that made his skin crawl.

“You don’t have to take me back home if you feel worse.” Max finally shot out, quite literally. She was staring ahead, wringing her hands together like her mother did, only to stop a second later as if she caught herself doing an unconscious habit.

“Susan has work. She’s been driving you left and right for the past few weeks.” Billy kept his tone even, with no bite, going for something Max wouldn't associate with anger. He tried to stray as far as he could from that.

He swallowed back the bile from the reminder of his father and took off the sunglasses to rub his eyes in his own little habit. He had a long way to go if he really wanted a change.

“We were gonna go to the Arcade. Steve usually drives us there, then back. Most of us, at least. It’s not a big deal.” she gave a shrug to feint calmness.

“Okay, how about this – you start telling me things directly instead of going around in circles in hopes that I’ll have enough context to get to your point. Eventually.” when he faced her, Max’s lower jaw was slack. “So, do I pick you up or not?”

Her brows furrowed, her left cheek twitched as she bit into it.

“Maybe later this week. Steve will do it today.”

Billy gave a nod. “Wasn’t that hard now, was it?” then he pointed at her geek pack and they looked away quite obviously. “You’ll all be late to class, great job.”

She flew out the car but surprisingly didn’t slam her door. They all ran to the entry of the school, now void of any people but them.

In his peripheral vision he saw a figure approaching him.

Oh, fuck no. Why now of all times?

Harrington knocked on the window gently, even if he looked like he wanted to smack his whole palm repeatedly onto the glass. Billy lowered the window.

“Why are you driving?” was the first thing that went out of Harrington’s mouth, low and incredulous. “Driving Max, might I add, when last week you fainted at the sound of a dropped spoon.” his hands were on his hips now. He looked ridiculous.

“I was fine to drive her today. Susan has work.”

The exhaustion made him void of his usual anger that spiked to the bait at any small shift in the water. He was confident in himself, for once, that he wouldn’t snap.

“Hargrove, you were fucking concussed. Badly. People need months to recover fully and yet you’re driving around when your condition was bad enough for you to lose your memories at one point. You probably _still_ have blanks.” Harrington waved his hand while he talked, one palm still on his hip, voice rising the more Billy sat motionlessly.

Billy did have blanks, he wouldn’t even deny it if asked directly, most likely. Depending on the person. Sometimes he couldn’t remember his own birthday or the exact color of his mom’s hair but it all came back, piece by piece.

“I wouldn’t be driving Maxine to school if I knew that the sound of a horn would make me lose consciousness, asshole.” his hands were still in his lap and he was itching to do something with them now.

Harrington had braced his palms on the fully opened window at some point, staring Billy down like was trying to judge something only he knew.

“Besides, she said you’ll be driving her home.”

“You let her?”

“Did you honestly think it was _me_ who wanted her in the house at a certain hour?” that dark side of him stirred awake and he leaned his elbow between Harrington’s hands on the windowsill, letting a sick smile stretch his mouth.

Harrington seemed to catch the meaning quickly enough to give a deep sigh, to move away. Billy lit a cigarette, free hand playing with the zippo.

“It’s actually me from a month ago whose driving you should have been concerned about. I didn’t break any speed limits today. Ask Max.” Billy put the cigarette in his mouth, tilted his head to look at Harington through half-lidded eyes. That would probably be enough to make him leave.

Harrington stared at him without saying a word. It irked Billy how he couldn’t put a name to the emotion on his face. He closed the window and drove away.

  * •••••



There was half a month until January ended plus the fact that he’d lost two weeks of school. Not that he gave that much a damn, he’d probably have to waste a weekend to jam all the material he’d lost in his head and he’ll be fine. What he wanted to know was what was going to happen to his father and whether Billy had to think of a way to magically move across the country to avoid his ire.

Going to the police station was not something he really wanted to do but Hopper knew. Only he’d spared Billy while he was in the cot and Billy hadn’t had the guts to ask.

The chatter in the department froze the moment he entered. Apart from the woman with glasses that looked away from her paperwork and straight at him.

“He’ll be expectin’ you, daling.” she glanced at Hopper’s office. Billy gave her a nod, heading that way.

Hopper opened the door before Billy could knock.

“Took you long enough.”

Billy closed the door, taking the opposite seat. Hopper waited for him to pick up his thoughts, to start the conversation.

“What’s gonna happen now?” Billy didn’t fully recognize it was his own voice he’d heard. It sounded so _meek._

“There’s a restraining order against against him – he can’t be within 900 meters of either you, Max or your step-mother until further notice. But I pulled some strings and he won't be back in town anytime soon.”

What?

“That easy?” that terrible hysteric laugh from before rose up his throat.

“Yeah, kid. That easy.” Hopper lit two cigarettes, offered Billy one. Billy’s shaky fingers almost dropped it on the pile of paper strewn all over the desk.

The air felt like it was saturated so much that he couldn’t inhale properly. The shaky feeling from _that_ night came back, like he was in the room with his father, with his blood trickling down his face and neck. Only it was just the feeling, no memories bombarding his vision like a screen over his eyes that played a grotesque movie with him as a starring role.

Hopper handed him a full glass of water. He leaned against the desk, then thought better of it and went around it so that he was sitting opposite of Billy. Hopper wasn’t a stranger to this behavior.

Billy switched the cigarette to his left hand and gulped the water. He almost dropped the glass when he went to place it back on the desk.

Hopper patiently waited him out, to finish his cigarette.

“And me? When am I supposed to go to school?” Billy asked when he stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray between them.

“I talked with the doctors about that. They were all pissed you ran away, by the way.”  it wasn’t a scold, there was mild humor in Hopper’s eyes. “You’re free to do so whenever you want basically, though another week of rest is the best recommendation.”

“Yeah, there’s more stimuli there, I might flip my lid or something, I know.”

“Also, no basketball until mid-March at least. Or sports in general.”

Billy blinked a few times. “What.” came flatly out of his mouth.

“Think of a concussion as an organ injury.” Hopper propped his legs on the desk.

“I know what it is.”

“Yeah, well, the fluid around your brain shifted twice, you lost your memories one day after the injury and you’re still sensitive to louder noises. If you want a damage-free recovery, you stop the things that might inflict _further_ damage, usually. It was a long time since I played basket but I strongly remember all the physical blows that left me with bruises 24/7.”

Billy sat back in his chair, leg bouncing up and down. A month and a half. A month and a half with no sport activities.

“I need it.” he bit out through clenched teeth. “It helps me control the— the anger. Without it I get— you’re not even a psychologist, why am I telling you that shit?” he stared at the desk, the knuckle of his index finger running over his lower lip.

“Walking is a thing.”

“ _It’s different_.” Billy hissed out, already on edge at the mere conversation.

“If you want a second concussion, go right ahead. Which, by the way, is going to be worse than the first one.”

There wasn’t really an option. Either he grit his teeth and went through that one month and a half or he damaged himself enough to fuck up his brain permanently. 

“Fine. Fine, I won’t play.” he sounded like a petulant child with the way he said it, so fucking sue him.

“You know I have a kid in my house, so you know that I’m fully aware that the look on your face means you’ll find a method to get your way.”

Billy shot him a long glare, not that it fazed Hopper. If anything, it was amusing to him given by the light shake in his shoulders.

“Why are you even doing this? Why did you let me stay, when you knew what I’d done and the type of person I am? Or did you suddenly forget that if Max hadn't tranqed me, I most likely would have killed Harrington or messed up the Sinclair kid further?”

The light tilt of Hopper’s mouth dropped, face going even. He put his feet down.

“Because I know some shit, okay? There's no excuse for what you did that night, either to Steve or Lucas. If they hadn't stopped me, I would have done something about it, something you wouldn't have liked. But things change and—” he gave out a long sigh. ”And I do believe people can also change, given the right circumstances.”

“You do realize just how cliché and chick flick that sounded, right?”

Hopper lit up another cigarette.

Billy shook his head slowly and stood up. When he was at the door, he turned to face Hopper.

“I’m not a good person and I’m pretty damn sure you’re wasting your time with an ass like me. Even if I do appreciate the sentiment.” Billy gave him a salute, getting out as fast as he could before Hopper could say anything else.

He stormed out of the building and sped off to wherever the car took him. It was kinda tempting to go to the house, pack his shit and head over to Cali, so, so fucking tempting. He actually thought about it for an hour while he sat at some abandoned parking lot who the fuck knows where, on the hood of his car.

The house he lived in there was already sold but he had buddies who would let him crash until he found a place, as long as he wasn’t that much of a slob. He knew people there, could get himself a job, maybe at that auto shop he’d been giving heart eyes for years. Cars were the only thing he had a long interest in – be it because it was just cool to know how to pull apart a car to fix and pull it back together or because his mom was a bit of an enthusiast.

Fuck, he could leave and never come back here.

He spent the whole day thinking of what if’s, actually making himself feel worse, and smoked more cigarettes than he probably should have.

Billy was at the house by the time Susan had come back too. He had been staring at the kitchen floor for the past hour, just zooming around in a place that was far away from this dump.

Susan sat at the table with him, not saying anything and not touching him.

He wanted to hate her because it had been so easy back then, when he immediately connected her name with his father. Now, it was… it was different.

“What are you gonna do?” he said without looking at her. “You moved a little over a month ago with your new husband to a new state and now you have a restraining order against him.”

When he did shift his eyes to gouge her reaction, there wasn’t any anger or hurt inflicted by his wording.

“It’s a new beginning either way.” she said, cradling the glass of water she’d poured herself.

They sat there in silence for God knows how long and the next thing he knew, the front door was opening. By reflex, his body tensed, he stopped breathing until he heard the loud sigh that could belong only to Max. There was the lightest of pressure of fingertips on the back of his hand – Susan. She didn’t smile but the understanding was easy to read.

She stood up to greet Max while Billy took the jar with peanut butter and left for his room.

It was boring without the music, the constant thrill of going out and getting himself shitfaced enough to forget about his problems or fuck them out as best as he could.

Technically, he could get shitfaced but he didn’t know what cost he would pay later when his physical state wasn’t the best. Hell, he might even die in his sleep. And even if that thought did nothing to scare him, he didn’t want his life to end before he’d gone to Cali at least one more time, splashed in the water at least one more time, hit a big wave only to fall off his surf board at least _one_ more time.

Sometimes that was the only thing to glue him together, especially after fights with his father – the hope that one day he’d be able to go home.

Given the fact that he didn’t have a full-time job or place to live, it was out of the way for him to go there. He had to finish school. Once he was in Cali, he wasn’t coming back here in this fucking shithole.

It was all good, having motivation to actually graduate and all that crap but that was five months away. Plus, he couldn’t sleep more than a fee hours nowadays, not in this bed anyway.

He’d made this room resemble the one at home as much as he could, even moved the furniture around so that it all stood in identical places. Right now, that did nothing to help sedate his thoughts enough to fall asleep.

The noises were wrong. The creaking was too loud or too unfamiliar, made him startle. When he was on the brink of sleep, he thought he felt his father near and woke with a start. Even chain smoking didn’t help, like last night.

Billy went for a glass of water, eyed his Camaro from the window in the living room.

Guess he was gonna sleep there again.

At least, this time it took him less to fall asleep when he was surrounded only by things he knew, scents that weren’t alien and a dumb sense of security enveloping him.

  * •••••



He woke up by himself, no Max on the opposite window or anything. The darkness, however, made him want to hurl something. It was like he was back in the hospital and if it wasn’t for the smells he connected only to himself or to good things in general, he would have freaked.

Man, he hasn’t been this bad, ever.

Usually it took him little time to put on that sleazy mask, to shoot flirtatious grins all around the place to get himself laid, to care more about how his hair looked, rather than wondering if he might get hit with the reckless speed he always drove at.

Once he got a glimpse of himself in the back mirror, he could discern the shitty nest that was his hair, looking plain disgusting with how messy it was when he hadn't cut it since he landed in this place. Fuck, he liked his hair, vain enough for it that his father constantly threw the most beloved word ‘fag’ at his son whenever he saw Billy look at his own reflection for too long. Apart from his eyes, it was the only feature of himself he liked, it was one of the few physical connections he had with his mom.

Had that Billy from their first week in Hawkins seen him, he would probably be appalled, he was _that_ vain. At least the scars from the split eyebrow and the one near his hairline wouldn’t be that bad, maybe. The split lip was healing too slowly to his liking, it meant blood on his cigarettes when he split it open again and again. Frankly, it was horrible.

Billy took his crap back to the house. It was almost six, Susan was probably up by then. The kitchen was lit up and there she was.

She paused taking a sip when she saw his pillow and blanket in his arms. A sad look crossed her face but she quickly faked it with a slight smile.

“Did you get some sleep, at least?”

Billy nodded before heading to his room. If he wanted a change it might be good to start with Susan who he’d always pretended didn’t exist, Susan who chose his side instead of her new husband’s, Susan who let him stay at the house, instead of kicking him out.

He was going to think about that later, the inside of his mouth felt awful, he needed to clean it _now_.

Looking at his reflection in more than just lamp light made him cringe.

It was horrendous. And here he was, thinking he’d gotten better.

At least the purple was fading, except around the hairline wound. Not to mention his hair was even shittier in the bathroom light – strands in random curls or floppy and sad-looking. He was so taking a shower.

After brushing his teeth, he took a pair of underwear, sweatpants and a hoodie from his room to change in, along with a towel. The shower was nice, having warmth surrounding him after all this fucking cold. He was never going to get used to it. He debated whether to blow dry his hair when he had a wound on the back of his head that was gonna hurt like a bitch the moment he brought the heat near it. He decided it was for the best to just let it dry out on its own, as painfully slow that was going to be. He just rubbed it with a towel in hope that it might help.

He sat with Susan in the kitchen, him drinking his coffee and her reading some book.

She still hadn’t talked to Billy about his father. Maybe because he looked like literal shit. Or because he’d made sure to be unapproachable and as angry-looking as possible. He even wondered why she’d married his father in the first place – how could you not notice so much violence in a man when you’ve decided to marry him? Because Billy knew she was aware of the fights they got into, but his father had always been careful not to be _too_ forceful around her, not like last time.

“Why did you marry him?” he heard himself ask, despite biting his tongue.

She paused reading, tilting her head a smidge without looking at him yet.

“I thought he was a different person, a better man.” she took a sip of her tea, swallowing with difficulty. “Guess I was wrong.” she gave him the same meager smile as half an hour ago, sad and a bit empty.

“Guess my mom thought that too.”

Billy didn’t want to see Susan’s reaction. He stood up, lifting the chair instead of letting it emit that awful sound of it sliding over the tiles.

“Thanks for the coffee, Susan.” Billy muttered before going back to his room.

He came out only when he was sure Max was ready and nodded at Susan on his way out. Baby steps. Max looked between them, looking affronted. He heard her ask Susan but Susan didn’t say anything.

Billy’s hair was still fucking wet, thus he was colder than usual. He hadn’t even gone with a shirt, had instead stayed with his hoodie, only with a tee underneath because he might be a macho but he knew his limits and hypothermia was ugly.

He reached automatically for the radio, only to stop the last second. Probably not a good idea yet. Max noticed. She was staring at him the same way Harrington had – with calculation and incomprehension, like Billy was an enigma of sort, which was dumb. If people gave him the right things, like good booze and good food, he might just spill some of his beans. They didn’t need to know that, though, he liked seeing them suffer like that.

Harington was there again, sitting in his BMW and talking to one of the boys from the geek pack, Dustin or something of the like. But yet again, Max didn’t jump out the car immediately after it had stopped, she was glaring through the dashboard.

Billy kept silent, knowing that’d make her more uncomfortable and result in her talking.

Through his sunglasses, he observed the geek pack and Harrington, the other little shits milling about the red car. He even opened his window when he was cold as balls to smoke.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but—”

“Your mom made me coffee and we sat in silence before I went back to my room.” Billy interrupted her like he’d planned on doing the whole time.

She had that ‘I swallowed a lemon and I don’t like it’ face. Then without a word, she got out of the car, slamming the door shut. The sound made his ears ring and for a moment he was so fucking sure it was going to result in a ‘pain attack’ that he’d stopped breathing. Max had realized the same thing because she was standing outside the car, frozen like a statue, her eyes wide.

Billy slowly lifted his hand, then in an even slower manner showed her his middle finger, followed by a ‘shoo’ motion. She stuck out her own middle finger and ran to her geek pack.

There was still a slight ring echoing, though nothing like before – he preferred the headache to the excruciating pain that felt like somebody was drilling into his skull without any form of anesthesia.

He felt eyes on him a few moments later, the back of his neck prickled from the attention. Despite the voice in his head that told him to just fucking drive away, he looked at Harrington.

Harrington who was getting out of his car and walking the short distance to the Camaro. Harrington who tapped Billy’s window and braced his hands on the door when the window was out of the way.

Harrington’s mouth opened but nothing came out, instead he grimaced. “Is your hair _wet_?”

“What the fuck do you think, genius?” Billy pulled one of the longer strands, so Harrington could see the even more obvious wetness in the curl. “But I bet that’s not why you stalked over here. What? You missed me already after seeing each other every day for a whole week?” Billy threw on a flirty smile when he took a drag from his cigarette.

Harrington gave him a dirty look, nose scrunched up. Good, at least he still had the charms to fool people.

“I just came for a cigarette, dude.”

Billy couldn’t stop one eyebrow from ticking upwards. They weren’t _buddies_ , if anything they always ignored each other, at least Billy did. Harrington and his blatant staring he couldn’t explain as anything but cautiousness.  

Even so, Billy took out a cigarette without saying a word. At least Harrington had his own damn lighter, the fucker.

But Harrington didn’t leave, he just leaned a hip on Billy’s car.

“The fuck do you want?” Billy sighted in a puff of smoke. Harrington looked down at him. He appeared shittier than usual, with dark rings under his eyes gloomy enough to battle Billy’s. Then he shrugged and walked away.

Billy shook his head and left.

  * •••••



That day was spent in aimless wandering as well. He didn’t have any places to be. It was kind of nice.

But now that he was used to some type of human interaction, it was hard to get accustomed to his lone wolf status. He didn’t even want to think how many people he’d have to kick or punch for the inevitable comments he’ll get. Word travelled fast in this shithole.

He was almost tempted to go visit Elfy, just because she was quiet and smart, knew when her input was needed, though she needed a bit of etiquette regarding human emotions.

When twelve came and passed, he did just that.

He bought Eggos because she was a nice kid and he might actually like her quiet friendship.

It was bit confusing navigating through the forest, it took some time. He found it after wandering around a bit. He stepped over the trip wire. Once he was at the stairs he stopped.

What was he doing?

Going to a little kid’s home like a creeper just because he didn’t want to admit he was lonely and had no friends because of his asshole demeanor?

Billy shook his head. He just climbed one step so that he could leave the box of Eggos at the door. He found his car quickly and drove around the forest, stopping at a higher point to look out at the small valley below. There was a little sun today. It wasn’t strong enough to keep him warm that much but he basked in it with his glasses on, just leaning against a random tree, hands in his pockets.

It was a peaceful moment until suddenly there was a small figure to his right.

Billy did not fucking jump, thank you very much. “ _Holy fucking—!_ ”

Elfy stood there with her hat and in her big jacket, a tiny smirk pulling at her lips.

“You little shit, you knew I wasn’t paying attention.” he pointed a finger at her. She shrugged in an exaggerated manner. “What are you even doing here? It’s cold as balls.”

“Why is your hair wet?” she stared up at him through the curly bangs and the top of the hat that mashed them over her eyes.

“Washed it the morning, couldn’t dry it.”

“Why?”

Billy turned his back to her, moved his hair so and so to show her the now scabbed over wound.

“Oh.” it was refreshing not to get pity for once. “Bitchin’.”

It took Billy a full three seconds to assimilate what he’d just heard before he snorted out a laugh, followed by something even louder that kinda hurt to do, both his ribs and his head alike, but he couldn’t hold it in. This kid. This fucking kid.

This time the smile was a bit bigger. Her eyes crinkled.

  * •••••



Billy stood with her for another half an hour before the cold got unbearable. He offered to take her home but she said something about liking to wander around the forest. Weird kid.

So he drove home after buying himself another pack with the money he still had on him.

He was a bit flinchy while outside in public because he felt like his father was going to jump him at any given moment. Billy didn’t even know where his old man was. He might be across the country or a block away. It made that sleazy thing in his stomach whine.

The rest of the night he spent listening to quiet music, finally relenting. As long as it wasn’t loud, his head was fine. He even thought he might be able to sleep in his room tonight.

  * •••••



He couldn't.

  * •••••



For the rest of the week he took catnaps on the couch when he was exhausted and slept in his car for the night. Susan always looked like she wanted to say something, even Max bit her tongue about it more often than not.

He continued driving her in the morning, continued the banter with Harrington during said mornings, even if he got the stink eye by the end of every conversation.

Then he spent the weekend wandering in the forest and chatting with Efly because she always seemed to find him. His diet consisted of more Eggos than he should consume if he wanted his figure to stay the way it was. Still, the kid liked them and was the only person in this town that knew everything and understood it, that didn't put any pressure on him because of it and was a company that wasn't draining.

But Monday was another story.

Monday meant he finally got to go to school. Which, in turn, meant that when the whispers started he was there to hear them.

He got out of the car like nothing had changed. And it kind of hadn’t as much - he knew they weren't aware of the whole picture, nobody knew what had happened for sure apart from the fact that Billy had been in a hospital.

Now that they could see his wrecked face that still held tints of yellow around the wounds and mild purple at his jaw and temple, they didn't need a lot to put two and two together.

Billy expected confrontation, insults that would make his blood boil, that would get him in that red mode of violence. He didn't want to admit it but he wanted to do it - get in a fight, at least punch somebody. To have a way to excert all that fucking pent up energy that was eating him alive.

Yet nobody did.

They all kept their heads down, even that bastard Tommy.

And it wasn't the way he'd predicted, that he'd be outcasted, at least until he started playing basket again, no, all those bitches that crooned over him before still did that. Saying shit like how cool the scars looked.

That so didn't help.

It was bad enough that Billy spent his whole lunch break walking around the school, eating the plain turkey sandwich he'd made when he couldn't sleep.

The rest of the classes rolled on slowly. It was like he'd barely even missed any material. Just how fucking stupid was everybody?

Not only that but he couldn't even go to basket practise. That was when Tommy opened his mouth and Billy had his chance. They shared their last class and Tommy couldn't hold his tongue behind his teeth when the teacher left. Billy didn't exactly remember what had happened, what had done it in the end, but he had Tommy’s face pressed against a wall with his right arm twisted roughly behind his back.

“What was that, _Tommy_?”

Hell, Billy didn't even need to apply a lot of pressure, that fucking piece of shit was already pleading.

“Shit, dude, I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry, man. I didn't--” Billy twisted harder, on the verge of gripping enough to hear the satisfying crack of bones. He could easily snap his wrist in a breath. “I just--” Tommy whined from pain.

But despite the confrontation, Billy wasn't feeling that crimson rage boiling in his veins, the one that took control. No, he was calm, he was--

It wasn't what he wanted.

Billy let Tommy go, shoved him away. Tommy hit his hip in one of the desks. All the others who had gathered were staring and the moment Billy turned to look back, they started pushing to the door. Nobody dared to stay.

  * •••••



The whole week was like that.

Until Thursday when he overheard Harrington talking to his ex and her new boyfriend.

“Will had a dream.”

They were at the library. Billy had used it as a last resort to hide during the lunch hour because it was too cold today. They were seated at the table next to the book shelf behind which Billy had been minding his own business.

He had been staring in the distance when he'd caught familiar voices.

“You mean--but El closed the gate. Right?” that was Harrington. If Billy could pin one emotion on him right now it would be sheer panic. “She _closed_ it. They can't get in.”

El. Elfy?

It made sense with her supernatural powers. Billy didn’t know how it had gotten to the point where that wasn't abnormal for him. That or the fact that those idiots were discussing a gate. It could mean literally anything. Parallel universe or aliens. Fuck this shit.

“Will thinks they might be able to make a rupture again. Only he doesn't know how when there's no catalyst.” Byers was quiet. Upset.

Wheeler had been keeping silent during the whole ordeal, apart from the click of her heel against the wooden floor.

A dull thud sounded, somebody hit their head on the table. The muttered curse confirmed it was Harrington.

“What are we going to do? If a whole pack of demodogs just appeared out of nowhere? If a permanent portal to the Upside Down opens?” Wheeler said. “If… if we can't close it this time?”

What the fuck were those shits talking about? Portals? A weird type of dogs Billy had never heard of? Shit going upside down? He wasn’t well enough to comprehend shit like this when he was trauma-free, much less when there were still lasting effects from the concussion. Maybe they were playing some sort of a role game. That seemed more plausible than an alien invasion in fucking Hawkins.

Yeah. That was probably it.

“How about we all meet tonight, at my place? Will probably already told Mike and they’re all gonna be there either way. Mom will call Hopper.” Byers sighted out, sounding more subdued than before.

Hopper? Chief Hopper? What was he doing playing geek games with kids?

Billy was tempted to thump his head against the book shelf, the only thing stopping him being the still fragile state of his brain. And said fragile state didn't like all the bullshit that was being sprouted.

Thankfully, they left soon after. Billy had missed the last part of the conversation. If he to to be honest, he didn't really mind.

He waited until there were two minutes left to his class. Some girl tried to make him take her out on a date, another tried to display her breasts more than they already were. At least the girls in Cali had some dignity and took the word ‘no’.  

Lately he wasn't even feeling like indulging them - the preps that were as worse as the jocks. Sure, he’ll never go after that smart and quiet type but nothing caught his eye. There were some chicks that weren't in either category, were pretty without being bitches, average looking that had actual friends and weren't constantly eye fucking every dude in the vicinity that looked like enough trouble.

Some of the guys weren't bad either. Not the jocks - they had killer bodies but the attitude and narcissism so similar to Billy's was too much. Maybe those types to sit by themselves, the ones with dark hair and dark eyes.

Billy watched around the classroom, being in the perfect spot at the back. The teacher sat at his desk, talking and talking and talking.

There was a guy in the middle that wasn't bad looking, was kinda familiar. Though he didn't think he'd seen the crimson sweater before. The type of red that looked like fresh blood, like--

Billy took a slow breath through his nose, filling his lungs up until they couldn't store any more air and made his ribs burn. He was not going to break down at Economics class, at fucking school, just beacause some random dude was wearing a red sweater.

But that dude turned his head a bit and…

It was Harrington.

No, wait.

No, it wasn't. Billy was just-- for a moment he was sure it was Harrington - the hair was similar, the shape of the jaw too, but the nose and lips were wrong, the eyes were blue, not brown. And why did Billy know how to discern Harrington so clearly all of a sudden? Man, he needed one good night of sleep and it was all going to be alright.

He just needed sleep.

  * •••••



At the end of the day, Harrington came by his car before Billy could leave. Wheeler and Byers took off, speeding past them.

“What, Harrington?” Billy snapped when Harrington stood there like a log, a determined expression on his face.

“Would you mind if I picked up Max? The kids wanna have one of their D&D games tonight.”

Jesus. That sounded so fake.

“Word of advice - learn the correct body language for lying next time. Do whatever you want, just run it with Susan before that.” Billy lit a cigarette, couldn't look at Harrington properly right now, at least not in the eyes, not after the stunt during Econ.

Harrington opened and closed his mouth a few times, briefly furrowed his eyebrows. He wanted to say something.

Billy wasn't feeling generous today. He got inside his car and sped away.

He drove and drove and drove. A stupid idea sprung him into going back to the house. He packed the duffel bag in his room with fast necessities - bandages, antiseptic, clothes, underwear, socks, tooth brush, tooth paste and shampoo. The rest he could get on the way. He left a quickly scribbled  sticky note on the fridge for Susan, not feeling like that much of an asshole to just vanish into thin air without an explanation.

\-- Will be gone ‘till Sunday. - B.

And he sped down the road.

He passed by a few towns. His goal was to be in another state at least, as far away from Indiana as he could be. He wasn’t well enough for a long trip to Cali, not yet, but Ohio was close enough to not be any strain.

Billy played music, barely audible in a calculated fear. It was five now, he'd find a hotel to crash at for the night soon. He took stops every hour, either for a breather, a piss, for a cigarette or all three. It was cold enough for him to breathe out in puffs but he didn't care. He wanted away, even if it was for a bit.

If he couldn't exercise his anger away, he was going to drive it away. The money he had on him will suffice.

He stopped at a small town in Ohio, surrounded by tall forests. Something about it was dark, didn't sit well with his guts. He went over to the next one which was a bit better, still riddled with forests but less creepy.

An old lady gave him a big room at the motel when he plucked his charm on. It wasn't the best of place. Still, he had warm water, a relatively fine bed and most importantly - clean sheets. He went out and bought himself food to eat; once he was done, he went back to the motel. He took a shower, rubbed some antiseptic on his wounds, brushed his teeth and went to bed.

It was nice, the blanket was worn but smelled like detergent and was heavy, bringing him a sense of security. And in case something did happen, he had the key on the lock so nobody could fiddle with it and his pocket knife open on the night stand.

He quickly toppled over the edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are literally my motivation *wink-wink* ♥


	4. I'm sick and I'm tired too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a big thank you to everybody who took their time to write comments and leave kudos, you keep me going!! ♥
> 
> Also, this is the first time where an M-rated scene will appear (between Billy and a stranger). It's in the beginning.
> 
> The title of this chapter is from The Neighbourhood's song 'Beach'.
> 
> Any mistakes are my own but I hope you enjoy!

Billy woke up to the light of the sun in his face. It was probably noon. He'd skipped a school day; he didn't have it in him to give a shit when he was finally well rested for the first time in who knows when.

The old clock on the nightstand told him it was around 3 p.m. Billy didn't worry because today was one of those sleepy days, he'd be able to hit the pillows soon enough.

He wandered around the town, found an abandoned field that was ridden with snow. His eyes still hurt, in comparison with before it was nice. His pain had dulled to mild headaches now, when he was in the sun too much and wasn't wearing his sunglasses.

Billy's lungs had gotten used to him smoking a copious amount by now, though he did pocket the second packet after he'd sat at the field for maybe three hours and smoked through the first one. He wasn't deluded, aware that more smoking meant slower recovery.

It was getting boring, to be quite honest. There was nobody he knew could irk him just the right way. The girls were pretty, though, and seemed to have brains unlike the ones at school. He'd gotten a few not so subtle glances and slow once-over. Still, Billy's eyes strayed to this one guy with pretty hair and prettier eyes.

It wasn't until he was back at his room at midnight that he realised why exactly he'd seemed familiar in a way.

Harrington just kept on haunting him even if Billy was in a different state.

He'd punched his pillow a few times. Yesterday, now today too? He was seeing Harrington everywhere and he didn't even know why. The guy irked him at all times. They had some sort of civil conversations now, they weren't friends.

But thinking some dudes were pretty just because they shared _vague_ similarities with Harrington? That was off the wagon. It was the injury, he was sure. He just wanted it all to go away, for him to be back to normal and fool everybody with snippy comments, assholery and absolutely horrible character. The inside of his little fortress was his own and only he got to choose who to show it to, those fucked weren't allowed within kilometres.

Only Elfy could step in the garden.

  * •••••



Saturday was gloomy, with no sun whatsoever peeking from the dark clouds. Billy spent the majority of it in the room, lying in bed, smoking at the window, enjoying a long shower.

It wasn't enough. He'd run out of fucking Indiana, into the closest state, to release some pent up energy and emotions, not laze around, bored out of his mind with nothing to do.

It made him grab his keys and go outside around sunset. There had to be at least one bar here, just _one_.

Billy found it while asking around, after more charms thrown than he had the mindset for. The bar was alright, at least, with decent whiskey and gin. Then that guy from yesterday showed up. Billy had been sitting with his back to everybody, nursing his third glass of whiskey like an alcoholic, and there he was - the Steve-like dude, only in more form-fitting clothing and a grin that had nothing friendly about it. More like predatory. Billy returned it with one of his own and for the first time since he'd left, it was a real one.

  * ••••••



Thomas, his name was, sucked Billy off at a snowed up alley and fuck was he good. What actually made Billy come, what he didn't want to admit, was how when Thomas had tilted his head just so, just enough for the shadows to dance on his face, Billy saw Harrington.

He moaned low in his throat, running a slow hand through Thomas's hair as the wave crashed over him. Then he pulled Thomas up. Billy didn't always return the sentiment when time was zero to none, but this guy at least deserved it when he'd let Billy fuck his throat, had even suggested it. And he wasn't in a hurry right now.

Billy got him off slowly, teasing and teasing some more because that's what he was best at, prolonging the pleasure to a maximum. It had Thomas writhing against up, hiding his face at Billy’s neck, fitting there perfectly when he was a smidge shorter than Billy. Thomas came with the whisper of the name ‘Kevin’ uttered into Billy's shoulder.

A minute later, when they'd cleaned up as much as they could, Billy spoke.

“Why don't you fuck this Kevin guy instead of wasting your time with quickies in back alleys?”

Thomas quickly lost the afterglow, looked like a fish out of sea. “Shit, I…. I….”

Billy waved a dismissing hand. “Hey, man, this is no strings, remember? The point is to get off, not care about who the other actually wants.” he crouched to get some snow to remove the come from his hand.

Thomas gave a dimpled smile, more at ease, and fixed his dark hair.

“Yeah, well, you should talk with that Harry dude. Mine’s a lost cause - straight and moving to New York with his girlfriend, so.” he gave a shrug in a ‘what can you do' manner, albeit the obvious misery.

But that was none of Billy's concern. He was more concerned about the fact that he'd come with Harrington on his thoughts and lips while getting blown by a random dude.

Thomas gripped his shoulder. “Looks like you have some issues to go through, too.” and he reached out to fix that one curl that always fell on Billy's forehead, even when he hadn't put it there.  “Gotta go, though. Nice meetin' you.”

Billy clapped Thomas’s elbow lightly. “You too.” and Thomas left.

While Billy wanted to wring his own neck for making his thoughts an even more scrambled mess.

  * ••••••



Sunday had sun in it at least. Billy packed his shit, thanked the old lady at the reception, and went out to wander some more for an hour. He went back to the field, let the sun do its magic on him, but it wasn’t the sun in Cali.

He did a double take when he saw Thomas with some guy, both of them walking down the street, opposite of the Camaro. He waited for Thomas to see him, to figure out if Billy should pretend they didn't know each other or if he had a green light. Thomas gave a dimpled grin, lifting one hand in the air.

Billy smacked the horn of his car twice, doing a salute with his cigarette. Thomas tilted his head at the guy next to him and lifted his eyebrows while shrugging exaggeratedly. Billy laughed, that loud and annoying to everybody laugh. The guy, who was obviously Kevin, glowered at Billy.

Billy sped past them with one last nod and honk at Thomas. His head pounded at the sheer loudness of the horn. He swallowed it down.

The ride back was smooth, despite the horrendous weather. He was even able to last without sunglasses for a full two hours, that was a lot by his standards. He stopped a few times, when he felt a bit on the edge. He had a big coffee at a gas station and smoked outside for half an hour.

By the time he was back at fucking Hawkins, it was dark outside. He knew every corner of this dump and drove as much as possible to prolong the inevitable.

The lights were on, but it was around seven, so no surprise there. Only his heart sped up in a long ingrained in him habit, expecting the worst when he stepped inside the house. He’d barely even noticed Harrington's red BMW.

Oh.

Fuck.

Billy was in no mood to regard his problem, not today at least.

And the front door bursting open didn't help with that. His body did an involuntary flinch. It was only Max.

A furious Max.

“ _Where were you?!_ ” she screeched at him. It made the headache worse, for sure, made him take a step back.

“Uh. Ohio?”

“Ohi-- _OHIO?_ ”

“I left a note.” Billy said slowly, dragging every word.

Max closed her mouth, eyes narrowed. She tapped with her foot once, twice, thrice and pointed a finger at him.

“There was no note.”

Billy bit his lower lip into his mouth to reign in his control, but he accidentally split it again because he was a fucking idiot. He stepped past Max, kicked his boots off, stepped past Harrington, who like a mother hen had come to see what was going on, and went to the kitchen.

“MAX!” Billy bellowed, stopping at the fridge, ignoring Harrington who suddenly looked murderous too. Max marched up to him. “Now, turn your apparently little eyes here and read to me what this apparently invisible note says because apparently I didn't write it and it doesn't exist.” he dug his index finger over said sticky note, its yellow color a big fucking irony on the white fridge. Not to mention the not even remotely small letters.

Max's shoulders slumped. She did Thomas’s fish out of the sea impression.

“‘Will be gone ‘till Sunday.’ Or am I apparently blind now too?” Max looked away, hands limp at her sides.

“Hey, listen, man--” Harrington started.

Billy pointed at him without sparing him a glance. He wasn't willing to deal with Harrington yet. If ever. “Shut it.”

“Hargrove--”

“I said, shut it.” Billy said, voice as low as possible. Max was staring at her feet. “I'm not mad at you, Max.” he was but it left such a bitter taste in his mouth that he didn't want to act on it. “Just… just look at things before you go assuming. Susan lost her shit, didn't she?” at that Max's head snapped up to look at Billy.

She sighted.

“Yeah.” Billy gripped his duffel bag a bit tighter. “I'm going to sleep.” he shook his head again, bypassing Harrington without touching him.

Once he was down the hallway he heard both him and Max say, “Shit.”

This time it was obvious his room had been rummaged through. The boombox was on the floor, his bed covers where arranged strangely because he didn't do them like that. The hair products his narcissistic self used were also not in the places he'd put them, as were the clothes in his closet and--

His fucking underwear was the last straw.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, br--

Fuck it.

“ _MAXINE_!”

Billy kicked his door open, stormed down the hallway but before he could open his mouth at Max, Harrington stepped in front of her with his hands raised.

“I suggested it! It was me, not Max. _I_ suggested we raid your room to see if you had actually run away.” he said quickly while Max peeked from behind him.

Billy breathed out, stopping his hand from landing a smack on his head. Instead he pointed at Max with two fingers, because this night was for pointing, then at his own eyes. He did it one more time for emphasis, ‘I'm watching you.’

She didn't seem even remotely intimidated.

Billy finally faced Harrington, actually looking at him for the first time that night.

“So for you to determine if I'd packed my shit or not you had to go through my underwear, Harrington? Hmm?” Billy indulged placing one hand on his hip. “Hmmmmm?”

Harrington aquiered a pained expression.

“I uh.... We had to cover all the bases, man.” the pained expression got worse.

Billy could punch him in the pretty face, thus losing any kind of progress he'd made, or he could walk away. There'd been a lot of temptations lately.

_‘Yeah, well, you should talk with that Harry dude.’_

Thomas’s words echoed at him like a laugh.

This was too much.

He fucking came with Harrington on his mind and mouth barely 24 hours ago. Looking at him now was too much.

Billy shook his head, turned on his heel. “Whatever, Harrington.”

He slammed his door, throwing himself on his bed. Fuck, did it even mean anything? Harrington was just a pretty face and now Billy had more freedom to do things he liked - like fucking guys, not being scared to even think about that when he was sharing one roof with his father.

Hell, he cared more about Max than about Harrington.

This brain injury was the root of everything.

He'd been able to forget about his father long enough for him to fall asleep.

  * •••••



Susan and Max started paying more attention to the sticky notes on the fridge, keeping the one Billy had written there as a reminder. Billy hated to admit just how touching that was, now that he wasn't constantly angry at them. Just sometimes.

But the problem with no exercise still stood. It loomed over him every time he saw his weights in the living room.

Billy had started wandering the forest again, another new habit that was the only thing keeping him whole. It didn't matter he didn't have time to do his homework because he wasted so many hours walking. It didn't matter because it kept him stable enough to be able to get four hours of sleep on his bed instead of the Camaro.

That day had been colder than usual, seeping into his bones, keeping him alive. His nose was running, his feet were freezing since he'd put on the boots that let water seep through.

Then he'd seen two figures in the distance, turned out it was Elfy and Hopper. Billy had a hunch that Elfy had sensed him in her own psychic way of hers he didn't question. Billy had a talk with Hopper when Susan had come back to the house last Sunday, when Billy had returned after ‘visiting’ Ohio. Hopper had sat him down at the table, all glowers and sharp edges, enough to put Billy on an edge himself.

He'd gotten an earful for packing his shit and just leaving without a word. When Billy had intervened that he'd left an actual note, Hopper had pursed his lips, told Billy to call somebody next time. After a long pause where Billy had thought how to say he didn't really have anybody to call, Hopper had said:

“Call _her_.” Elfy. ”I'll give you a number to the house.”

And since then, during the remainder of the week, he hadn't stopped thinking about it. A small act of kindness that Hopper didn't know how much meant to Billy. Because he wasn't in denial - he was a literal ass, and he wasn't going to call Susan at her work. He could relay a message to Max through Harrington but that meant having another nose in his business. Having somebody he could call at any time meant a fuck ton. Billy had barely been able to mutter a dull ‘thanks’, much less look Hopper in the eyes.

Meeting him a few days later, at almost the same region of the forest, had brought back the bitter taste in his mouth. But there had been no further serious conversations. Elfy had been going ahead of them and Hopper had used that opportunity to ask Billy how he was doing. Billy didn't know how to respond to that either, nobody asked him questions like that, only his small group of friends back in Cali had cared enough to do so. Billy kept his head low, his hands in his pockets during the whole duration of the walk.

Then Hopper just had to say something like ‘If you need anything, kid…’ and let the sentence hang, just had to make eye contact to be sure Billy had understood, just had to show he actually did give a shit to lend a hand to a fucked up teenager that had almost killed one of Elfy’s friends _that_ night barely two months ago.

Two nights later Billy was suddenly struck with the idea that finding a job wouldn't be bad, it wasn’t like school was hard and he didn't think college was for him. Not enough money either way. A job that payed by the hour would be a good edition to his daily life when he had too much energy to expend. Plus, he was getting used to the cold strolls through the forest, they didn't have that same effect as before.

One afternoon while he was strolling through the streets, he walked past a mechanic shop. He watched the cars, heard the clank of the instruments. He knew it would be something he'd like to do in his free time. He had some knowledge, had room for a lot more but knew the basics.

And he asked.

He asked Hopper about any autoshops that would hire an asshole like him. Hopper had that glint in his eyes Billy didn't want to think about because letting people get close or have an impact on him meant too much.

A day later, he got a call while Susan and Max were maing dinner and Billy was not allowed in the kitchen after he spilled the black pepper on the counter and sneezed himself into a headache. The phone was in the living room and at first he'd been reluctant to get out of his room to answer - nobody called _him_. His shock at hearing Hopper on the other line grew faint at the even bigger shock that he had an ‘interview’ tomorrow, six sharp.

Billy thought maybe Max had heard some of it because she kept stealing glances at him during dinner. The absence of his father at the table made eating a whole less stressful situation. Tonight was the first night he'd had the actual guts to sit down with them. It wasn't so bad.

  * •••••



The following day breezed past him. He supposed being nervous about an event made said event happen quicker than usual. Billy would never admit it even if Max threatened his dick and balls again, but he was so fucking nervous. If he screwed this up he’d just be proving what his father said regularly during thier one-on-ones, just how worthless he was as a being.

Turned out he had nothing to worry about. The ‘interview’ wasn’t even an interview, just jabs to figure out how much he knew about cars, what he could do. The moment Billy heard the name, however, was a long moment of debate whether this was just an elaborate joke.

Steven Spear. _Steven._

Harrington was haunting him everywhere, that fucker.

Billy had started calling his maybe employer Mr. Spear - he didn’t like that. Billy tried calling him Mr. Steven. That didn’t pan out either. Boss was the magic word, it finally worked.

“Usually everybody calls me Steve, though. But if you insist.”

Boss was taller than Billy, burlier, obviously worked a lot. To be honest, he looked like a bear – the beard and short but untamed hair helped with that point. Billy kept that to himself.

“I think you’ll be fine with the general maintenance for now. Your first test starts now.” Boss led him to a car in the back. “What’s wrong with it?”

Thankfully, Billy had been mindful enough to put on clothes he didn’t mind getting dirty, as in a plain black tee and jeans that had seen better days. He folded his jacket, left it on the nearest chair.

The whole process was familiar - check here, check there, make sure that this and that were operating normally and so forth. It didn’t take him a long time to figure out the problem, point it out and fix it. It did leave him with dirty arms and probable smudges on his face and neck but Boss looked pleased.

“Don’t you have school you should be focusing on, kid? University and all that jazz?” Boss asked while he was giving Billy a tour.

“Not really. And school’s not that hard.” Billy ran a wet towel over his arms in hopes of removing the motor oil off them.

“Don’t even dream of it. Once you get in here, that’s going to be your natural habitat, mark my words.” Boss gave a toothy grin, nodding at Billy’s arms.

Still, Billy continued rubbing in spite. The oil barely came off. Yet Billy didn’t feel annoyed about it.

  * •••••



Turned out he really liked it. The more of the black substance he got on himself, the more work he’d managed to do. He didn’t really do more than five to six hours a day seeing as he actually did have to do crap for school some days but when he was free or not that homework-ridden, he stayed until closing time.

Billy had told Susan after the first two days, only when he was certain it was something he enjoyed doing and it didn’t give him any ‘pain attacks’ or throbbing headaches. She’d been surprised. It wasn’t actual surprise, he could tell, more like a staged one. Hopper had told her. Billy pretended he hadn’t noticed.

Max didn’t know anything yet, though.

They relationship had gone from mutual animosity with barely any conversation to mild animosity and mild conversation. Sometimes, when Billy had better days, ones he’d actually slept for more than five hours, they talked about other stuff, basic stuff.

Billy knew they’ll never have a normal relationship. He was dumb, but not that dumb.

At least when he didn’t have to drive her to and from the Arcade on most days, the ones he stayed later at the auto shop, meant they didn’t interact as much, which led to less fights and less anger. It was a small step further.

Billy hadn’t talked to Harrington in almost two weeks since he'd come back from Ohio. Which didn't help like he'd thought it would.

Now he was fucking dreaming about him too, two times already. And it wasn't even sex - just-- the both of them sitting on the hood of the Camaro, sharing a cigarette and a thermos full of sweet coffee because the Harrington in his dreams liked it that way. Or the second one where they had been in a hotel in California, at night time, watching the dark sky and listening to the waves crashing, again sharing a cigarette between them.

Sex he could understand, _lust_ he could understand. That crap? What was that even? He got blown by Thomas in Ohio and now his whole mind was turning towards Harrington. Maybe he should just do the drive on the weekend, get a receipt or something because it was sheer lunacy, the whole thing.

He was so staying at the shop till closing hours today.

Only problem was that for him to do that he had to tell Harrington to pick up Max from the Arcade. Talking to Harrington was not an option with that _thing_ festering already. He had to starve it, make it die away quickly before it became an even bigger problem.

That meant he had to take a break long enough to take Max, drive her to the house and come back to the shop. Fuck.

Billy sat in his car after school, smoking a cigarette while his leg was jumping up and down. Not only that but today was a shitty day - he hadn’t slept, more snow had built up overnight, he was too cold to wear anything but a long sleeved shirt, the jean jacket and the leather jacket over it. Hey, he couldn't show off the pecks in this fucking cold but he was so not going to go to school the way he lounged at the house.

He was chewing lightly on the edge of his mother’s pendant around his neck, yet another fucking habit he'd aquiered all of a sudden, when he saw Harrington dragging himself across the parking lot to his car.

Man, Billy still had bruises and healing wounds that were too visible for his comfort. Harrington was looking far worse than him. Hair a complete and utter mess, clenched jaw, dark circles even more prominent than before under his eyes. Yeah, Billy was so not going to go over there, not when he'd get a snap from Harrington, which, in turn was going to make _Billy_ snap.

He knew his limits, thank you very much. Avoiding conflict was his best option.

But Harrington chose that moment to turn, to make Billy freeze. His eyes spoke of fury even this far away. Harrington stopped a few feet from his car, looked away to the BMW, back to Billy, and shook his head.

 _Walk away, walk away, walk away_ , was the chant in Billy's head. Harrington stalked towards the Camaro.

“Fuck.” Billy whispered to himself, looking straight ahead.

Harrington came closer and closer until he was at Billy's window. Billy tapped the ash from his cigarette.

Confrontation it was.

“You look like shit.”

“You look worse.”

“Didja look in the mirror today, Harrington?” Billy glanced up at him.

Harrington swallowed, ran a hand through his hair, pulling at back of his head.

“I can't take Max home from the Arcade today.”

Billy stared at him. Harrington had been in a fight - not that much of a physical than a confrontation like the one Billy was ready to start just so he could leave. The one that turned you 180 degrees and suddenly there was molten lava under your skin.

“Okay.” Billy took a slow drag, looked at Harrington some more because Harrington didn't want to be having this conversation either - he wasn't making any eye contact.

After all the straying thoughts that had plagued Billy lately, observing Harrington was like a perverse indulgence. Taking in the details, forming them in a fuller picture. Billy looked away.

“If that's all, I have shit to do.” he started the car, revved the engine a few times.

Harrington stepped away and Billy sped away.

  * •••••



Crap. Shit. _Fuck_.

Billy was working on the car of some rich chick that wouldn't stop yapping at his head. At least he was under the damn car and he didn't have to hide under flirty smiles or winks. And he was thinking about Harrington.

Again.

Fuck.

He didn't give a fuck if his body had sudden interests concerning Harrington, he didn't want to be thinking about it.

The work piled which was always good. It meant more hours where his mind couldn't wander that much. Now, however, that wasn't helping. He couldn't get the way Harrington looked today, the… he didn't even have another way to describe it, the deadness of him.

The worst thing was that he had to go to the Arcade soon, as in he'd have more time to think, like he hadn't been doing that crap more than usual as it was.

Boss didn't have anything against him taking a longer break once he'd heard exactly why.

“Just be careful out there, the road’s shit.” he'd called after Billy.

Billy had only wiped his hands and face, washed them at the sink in the bathroom. His shirt was white this time, hiding nothing of the mess of his work. He liked it, it sat like a content ball of _something_ in him. Something he didn't know the definition of yet. Something that was good for him, for once.

His hair had gotten curlier today, with all the sweat that had been going on. He was still the newbie and had less important work because that was how things just worked but when there weren't enough people, Sean had called him for help. They had to fix up a big truck today, it was a long process that had Billy sweating through his shirt.

Billy took a cigarette out of his packet, putting it in his mouth to light it up when he got out.

“Hey, kid!” Boss’s unexpected voice made him give a slight flinch, hopefully undetectable. Billy turned like nothing had happened. “Take this.” Boss handed him a big axe, old looking but well kept through the years with a really fucking sharp blade.

Billy took it with a dubious expression, pocketing the cigarette. “What for?”

“In this shit weather anything could go wrong. Got my car stuck under a tree once. Better safe than sorry.” Boss clapped Billy's shoulder lightly.

Billy stared at the thing for a while before he went to the Camaro. He placed it under his seat, it barely fit. He switched the place to right next to the seat, on his left side, hilorizontally - it was easily accessible that way.

It took him ten minutes to drag his ass to the Arcade because the roads were icy. Harrington was already there, looking zoomed out of his mind, staring in the distance. Billy stopped a few spaces away.

He got out of the car, pulling the jacket tighter around himself. He'd been feeling too warm the whole day, the icy bites of the air were finally welcome. It took only two drags of his cigarette and he was shivering all over.

He didn't expect Harrington to get out of his BMW when he'd been subdued enough to not be able to look at Billy properly. He appareaed even worse in the darkness. The thick coat he had on him did nothing to hide the solid shivers that shook him like a leaf.

“There something I should know about?” Billy said, not fully sure what made him do it. Seemed to be the right thing. Harrington’s head snapped towards Billy, shock too deep to hide, eyes wide and mouth pinched tight.  

A distant crash sounded. Probably an animal, Harrington got a panicky look on him, eyes shifting left and right like he was in a cage seeking a way out.

“Not really.” he muttered, still throwing suspicious glances at the alleys that weren't lit by the night lamps.

That was borderline terror on his face, though Billy gave him points for making himself sound even, when he was obviously having an episode or something.

“Sure.” it was a sick move, making it look like he knew more when he knew nothing at all.

Then the geek squad exited the Arcade, all joy and laughter. Harrington threw them a smile. It didn't work. They saw right through his bull, started sharing not so discreet glances among each other, especially Bowl Cut and Grimace slash Default Glare State face. Max caught sight of Billy, looked away and looked back at him - this time with her eyebrows to her hairline. It was the first time she'd seen him like this 

Billy got in the car, starting the engine. The sooner he got her to the house, the sooner he could go back to the cars back at the shop. She got in relatively quickly. Billy noticed the way the rest of the geek pack swarmed Harrington, concerned, each and every one of them.

Max was silent as they pulled away. She only waved at the geek squad a few times before settling in silence.

“What's that on your face?”

Billy watched the road to see of there were any cars nearby and craned his neck to look himself in the rearview mirror when the coast was clear. There was a new dark smudge at his left cheekbone, near his ear.

“Engine oil."

Oh, she was dying to know.

Not to mention the fact that Billy was in his ‘work clothes’, dirty around the knees, thighs and the whole shirt was splattered with dark smudges on the white material, all from when he tried and failed to rub his fingers free of oil during the hours he kept. It was all quite obvious.

“Since when did you start work?” maybe she wasn't that much of an idiot after all.

“‘Bout two weeks ago.” Billy turned the next corner and they were all alone, just on the brink of the city.

When--

_screech-smack-splat_

“HOLY SHIT!” Max bellowed, one hand holding her seat while the other held the seatbelt.

Billy’s heart palpitated in his chest.

Something smacked the car hard enough to jostle them in it a second time. Max let out a whine. Billy tightened his hold on the steering wheel.

He quickly undid his seatbelt.

“Stay in the car.” he said, reaching for the axe Boss had given him. He pushed the door open.

“Billy, _wait!_ ”

Just as Billy was about to walk over to the front of the Camaro, _something_ stood up.

Tall, was the first thought Billy had. Max screeched his name. The thing had no face, looked like out of a horror movie and was over six feet.

_Holy fucking shit._

It opened its face and--

Teeth, a lot of teeth glistening in the light of the headlights. Too loud. Too big. It charged at Billy.

Instinct took over from then on.

Billy swung the axe, fear overtaking him instantly. The thing yowled as one of the theeth-ridden petals fell. Claws shot out towards him, Max undid her seatbelt.

“Stay in the fucking car, Max!” he heard himself scream out.

He swung at the thing again, arms lifted over his head to use the full momentum. The thing fell. Its arm tried to grab Billy. He darted away a second before it was too late. His hands moved on their own, slamming the axe at it again and again.

His legs shook. He could barely breathe.

The thing moved too quickly and in a moment it was looming over him.

_What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuckwhatthefuck-_

This time the claws caught his left arm, digging through the jacket, right into his flesh. Its face opened up again.

Wait.

It got closer.

Wait.

The teeth looked so much bigger now.

Billy brought the axe and to its neck. It got stuck halfway but the thing trashed. He kicked it in the torso, once, twice, until the axe was free and with one last swing--

_Splat_

The head fell, the body convulced. It let go of Billy, falling sideways and away from the car in a loud thud.

Billy caught himself on the hood of the car, then his legs caught up and he was running towards the open door, dashing inside the Camaro. He closed the door with a shaking and bloodied hand. He left the axe in his lap, staring straight ahead.

He was heaving, let his head fall back.

He almost jumped out of his seat when Max reached for his right arm. Her face was as white as when she'd seen him beaten up by his father. Her whole body was shaking. She kept on tugging at his sleeve.

“Your arm. Billy, your _arm_.”

Billy took off the jacket, shrugging her off of him as well. His left arm was bleeding from four big puncture marks left by that _thing’s_ claws. At least there wasn't a nicked vein. It was going to heal. Definitely scar, he had to get it checked. Fuck did it hurt.

Max reached out again. This time he was expecting it. She didn't touch, like she was afraid it would do more damage.

Billy had to stop the bleeding.

“Duffel bag. Behind my seat.” he rasped out.

The axe in his lap was covered in blood, dripped onto his boots and jeans. Max fought to get the duffel bag from under the seat onto her lap.

“There's a T-shirt and antiseptic.”

Max rummaged through it with shaking hands. She handed them to him once she'd found them. Billy leaned forward to the console, snatching the switch blade open to rip the shirt in two. One part he used to dab away the blood, the other he drenched in maybe the whole bottle of antiseptic and tied it over the wounds.

Once he was done, he quickly cleaned the axe and left the it where it had been, between his seat and the door. His shaky fingers lingered on the wood of the handle, a glance outside confirmed the thing was dead.

Their breathing was still erratic.

_What the fuck?_

“Billy?”

“What the fuck was that?”

Billy couldn't look away from its headless body outside. What if there were more? Those things were going to break through the glass and rip through the metal. Billy and Max were dead if that happened.

“Byers's house. Can you drive there?” Max asked, too quietly and so not in her style. “Billy?”

The car was still working. He placed his hands on the steering wheel.

“Put your seatbelt on.” he heard himself say, as if through a fog.

Once she did that, he did a manoeuver to turn the car around, bypassing the corpse. She didn't talk, he couldn't think enough to talk.

Billy swallowed the bile that rose up his throat. This was such a fucked up nightmare.

He drove mechanically and maybe a bit over the speed limit but he coudn't stop the little voice in his head that told him to run and run and run. As far away, as fast as possible. The drive took maybe fifteen minutes, he couldn't really tell.

He stopped the car in front of the Byers’s house with an ugly screech. Apart from a car at the driveway, Harrington's BMW and Hopper's truck were there too.

Max dashed out of the car, threw the duffel bag in the vacated seat. She didn't even knock, just barged inside the house.

Billy reached over to shut the door and closed his eyes. His heart was still too erratic. He rubbed his face with his right palm, sinking into his body at last. The throbbing pain from his left arm was a welcome diversion.

There were loud voices all of a sudden. Hopper and Harrington jumped out of the front door and froze once they saw the Camaro.

Everything was in slow motion. He revved the engine, did a full turn with a sharp yank of the wheel and drove away.

  * •••••



He didn't know how long he'd driven, he was just glad the tank was full to the brim. His hands were shaking so bad he'd almost crashed a few times.

After Almost Crash 8 he stopped at a vacated field. Billy got out of the car, dug beind the passenger seat for the old two litre bottle he always had filled with water for the windshield wipers. He used it to clean his hands and splash some of it onto his face. It was already dawn.

He stood leaning against the passenger side door after he’d poured the rest of the water over the hood of the Camaro and had wiped the blood from it, then the door. The last thing he needed was for the car to look like a murder scene.

He smoked half of the pack of cigarettes, not really feeling anything but the burn in his lungs or the pain from the puncture wounds.

The sun had started rising higher in the sky when a car stopped right behind his own. He didn't know how he was sure who the driver was. It was just so typical. Harrington was everywhere.

Harrington didn't immediately get out. Billy continued smoking like he hadn't noticed. He did the same when Harrington came closer, when he leaned against the Camaro, next to Billy, without touching him. As when Harrington also lit a cigarette, when he handed Billy a full waterbottle that was chugged in one go.

“I'm guessing you know what that thing was.” Billy finally spoke when he had started feeling the cold better.

Harrington blew out a thick cloud of smoke. “Yeah.”

Then followed another long pause. Billy was numb. The little feeling he'd gotten back had vanished the moment he remembered last night. 

“Max told us what happend, how it crashed into your car.”

Billy shrugged, scratched at his stubble. With his peripheral vision he saw Harrington turn his head a smidge to stare at the arm Billy had just lifted. A sharp intake of breath.

“Shit.” Harrington whispered. “ _Shit._ ” he repeated, dropping his cigarette on the ground.

Billy brought his arm back to his side before lifting his almost finished cigarette to his lips. His hand was shaking so bad he didn't even try to hide it. The deep inhale burned  through his lugs enough to make his eyes water.

“C’mon, Hargrove, you need to check those out.”

Billy let the smoke out in a long exhale and threw the filter away with a flick of his fingers. He leaned fully against the car, knees bent a bit to accommodate him, his shoulders thudding on the cold metal. Then Harrington was in front of him.

Those fucking eyes and that pretty face.

“It's not gonna go away just because you don't wanna accept it.”

“If I wanted it to go away I would have packed my shit and left this dump.” Billy’s eyelids were heavy, the lack of sleep and the pending emotional strain gaining up on him.

Harrington searched his face and stepped back a few moments later.

“C’mon. You need a shower and to get that properly taken care of.” his tone was light but his face was strained as he stole glances at the ripped shirt tied over Billy's left arm and the alarming quantity of blood that had seeped through the white material.

“We’re not friends, Harrington. I get that either Hopper or Susan, or maybe even Max, asked you to go find me and play zoo keeper but I'm not going back yet. Tonight, maybe. Not right now.” Billy stared up at the sky.

Harrington sighted.

He left a minute later.

Good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I have no idea how people got hired as mechanics before, but this is fan fiction, so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Thank you for reading!!♥♥


	5. I know I'll fall in love with you, baby, and that's not what I wanna do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you and hugs all around for all of the nice people who keep leaving me comments and kudos, y'all make my day and keep me going!! ♥♥♥♥♥ And I am extremely sory for not being able to post sooner, but exam season is almost upon me and instead of studying for my Japanese exam, I'm gonna finally post the new chapter because I probably won't have enough time the next few days. Now, enough with my melodramatic ass, lol.
> 
> WARNING: there are two panic attacks in this chapter, all Billy. Only the second one is a bit bigger in magnitude and longer, so beware.
> 
> As usual, the title is from a "The Neighbourhood" song - this time it's from 'Cry baby'.
> 
> This one is a bit longer, I think?? Sorry for any mistakes and I hope you all like it!

In spite of what he'd told Harrington, Billy headed back to Hawkins roughly an hour later. It didn't take that long, he'd done a lot of circles just so he was driving and hadn't been that far away to begin with. He went to the house to get a shower, clean the new edition to his injuries and bandage them.  
  
Then he went to the auto shop, keeping the sleeves of his tee down to his wrists.   
  
Boss looked surprised to see him.   
  
“Hop called last night, said something happened. That you’ll need the rest of the night and today off.” he raised a brow.   
  
Billy shrugged, still not ready to utter a word.   
  
Boss stared right through him and with a wave of his hand, he dismissed Billy.   
  
“There’s a car, new one. Owner’s not in a hurry. And I'm guessing you need that right now, huh, kid?”   
  
Boss was a large man and Billy always had distrust for large men, especially ones who fit the age group of his father. Boss had a thing about him that made Billy feel at ease. Be it the fact that he never yelled when he got angry, even if he was a loud person in general, or because he'd never pried into Billy’s life and taken him under his wing.   
  
“Thank you.” Billy nodded before heading to where Boss had pointed at.   
  
It was 11 a.m. He had the whole day.   
  


  * ••••• 



By the time the night rolled up, he was exhausted, meaning that he would be able to fall asleep immediately.   
  
His clothes were now dirty, he hadn't even washed up a bit before heading out, too out of fucks to care. There was a black smudge at the edge of his jaw and all he could smell was motor oil.   
  
Billy took a different way home, the horror too fresh for his mind. Still, he couldn't help but wonder whether somebody had found that thing, had thought it was a sick joke because shit like that didn't exist, right?   
  
Then he saw guess whose fucking red car at his house. And a truck. Hopper and Harrington. Plus two other cars he didn't even want to know who owned. Only Susan's car was absent.   
  
Billy let out a controlled breath. He parked and got out quietly, debated getting in the house through his window. It would save him a load of crap.   
  
Billy entered the house relatively calmly, no matter how tempted he was to slam and crash, just to make noise. There was some sort of meeting between the geek pack, Harrington and his two buddies, the ex and the new boyfriend, and Hopper and the Byers’s mother. Elfy was there too. He had to go through all of them to get to his room.   
  
“Billy--” Max started, already on her feet.   
  
“Not interested, Max.” Billy dashed past her without touching her, made it clear he didn't want to be a part of this.   
  
Nobody stopped him, which was why he knew Elfy was going to do something.   
  
“Elfy, I swear to God, don't.”   
  
The geek squad started muttering among each other.   
  
He was certain it was Bowl cut, the youngest Byers, that said something along the lines of, “Mike, _don't_ .”   
  
Billy quickly took some towels, clothes and underwear, heading to the bathroom for a shower. They didn't say a thing to him.   
  
Fuck, was the shower nice. It drained the black off him, made him sleepy enough he took a long time putting on his tee and sweatpants. He took his time with re-applying the bandage and antiseptic. It stung while he was in the shower but it hurt even more with the alcohol. It was gonna be weird explaining it when he started playing basket. It being on his lower arm, just under the elbow, didn't help because he couldn't hide it under tee shirts.   
  
Shit, even his face wasn't fully healed. The gash at his hairline was still perfectly visible.   
  
Everybody had migrated to the kitchen, thankfully.   
  
Billy sprawled on his bed like a starfish. He was doozing already when a knock came on his door.   
  
With a sigh, he stood up and opened it.   
  
Harrington.   
  
Billy started closing the door. Harrington forced his way in.   
  
“That's rude, man.” Harrington said and sat on Billy’s bed like they were best buds all of a sudden.   
  
“What do you want? They should have sent Hopper if they wanted information, not _your_ skinny ass.”   
  
Harrington glared at him, looking around the room, then not so desceretely at Billy’s wounded arm.   
  
“I remember how it was. The first encounter. I lost my shit.” Harrington’s eyes met Billy’s. “I still don't like you, you're an ass. But Max is worried.” Harrington shrugged with another one of his pained expressssion.   
  
“I don't need comfort . I just need to assimilate it and forget it ever happened because I'm pretty damn sure you don't want me in this crap. Which, by the way, did it have to do anything with that night Max stabbed me with a needle?”   
  
Harrington paled and swallowed. “Uh…” he said eloquently. “There was one in the fridge, actually.”   
  
Billy blinked more than a dozen times while words formed in his brain and couldn't get out of his mouth.   
  
“Excuse you.”   
  
Just how many pained expressions did Harrington have?   
  
Billy shook his head, continued doing so while he headed for the stashed whiskey that stood boldly next to his guitar. He stood crouched while he took a long mouthful and a second one, followed closely by a third one. By then Harrington had gone off the bed and was waving his hands.   
  
“Hey, hey, hey!” he reached for the bottle. Billy closed the lid, sat on the bottle while putting on the sassiest face he could muster.   
  
“Are you for real?” Steve tried to get the it from under Billy.   
  
Billy spread his legs. “If you wanted some, you should'a just asked, pretty boy.” he threw in a leering grin and the magic was done. Harrington grimaced and stepped away.   
  
“You can't take one thing seriously, can you?”   
  
Billy’s grin fell, he was up in an instant. Harrington scrambled backwards, his back hitting the drawer. Billy’s hair products dinged together from the crash. Billy crowded him in, fists clenched tightly by his sides.   
  
“You wanna repeat that?” he growled, leaning into Harrington's space.   
  
Harrington stood still, moving his head back until he was almost baring his throat. The barely there slip of fear on his face snapped Billy out of the red blaze that had overcomed him. Not so long ago he used to be the one cornered and hit, left a shaking mess by his own father. Billy was no better.   
  
With a thick swallow, Billy turned away, dragged a hand through his hair. Deep breaths.   
  
“Get out of my room.” he croaked out, hating how dull and defeated it sounded.   
  
Before I actually kill you this time.   
  
No further movement meant Harrington hadn't left.   
  
“Get _out_ !” Billy slapped the wall near the window.   
  
He almost didn't hear Harrington's hurrying steps over the thumping of his heart and the rush of his blood.   
  
He really was no better. He'd been about to hit him and ruin him again, just like he'd done before. Before Max had stepped in the picture and had literally tranqualized him to get the insanity under control.   
  
Billy hit the wall too many times to remember.   
  
The new pain reigned him in enough to breathe again. Only now he had another wound. Nothing new, really. It was funny how even without his father he had bruises and injuries to hide. At least he knew how to do that.   
  
A knock started him and he almost tripped. He grabbed a wet wipe from his bedside drawer to wipe some of the blood away, threw it in the trash and went to open the door.   
  
He wasn't expecting Mrs. Byers. He stepped back to make way.   
  
She sat on the same spot Harrington had vacated, placed a plate full of sandwiches next to her and patted the bed.   
  
“C’mere.”   
  
Slowly, Billy made his way to the bed, sitting so that the plate was between them.   
  
“I know how hard it is.” she gave a smile, spoke softly. “How confusing and scary and weird it feels. How you just hope it's a weird nightmare and you’re thinking to yourself, ‘It's time to wake up, wake up’, but you're still there. And then the fear starts cementing you in your place because things like that, they…. They exist only in our nightmares and the movies, right?” she reached out, slowly, and covered Billy’s hand, careful of the bruising and residue of blood.   
  
Billy felt himself nod, heard the click of his throat when he swallowed back the emotions.   
  
“And coupled with what happened, it was just too much.” her thumb rubbed his cold skin.   
  
Billy looked away, too ashamed and furious with it all. Harrington was fine to snap it. Mothers were always tricky because most of them were a loud reminded of what he'd lost a long time ago, what he could have had, the person he could have _become_ had there been the right guidance and less of the sheer toxic shit he'd grown up in and succumbed to. It was partly why he'd avoided or pretended Susan didn't exist in the first place.   
  
“Hey, don't get lost in there.” she moved closer, pushing the plate further to the centre of the bed.   
  
Tears stung in his eyes.   
  
Thinking about his mom was always a weakness that left him crumbling from the inside out. All the defences toppled over, made his insides shake in grief, made his eyes see a black monitor, made his ears hear only the sound of a once steady line going flat.   
  
Billy raised his hands to his face, digging the apples of his palms into his eyes. He curled into himself, taking shaky breaths. Until he couldn't. The air just stopped flooding his lungs, like his airways had constricted. His chest hurt in that way it always did after the bitterness of the recollections.   
  
Gentle hands encircled him. For a moment he could pretend it was _mom_ , that he was a kid, still innocent and not ridden with the poisonous anger that burned and clawed at everything that was near.   
  
“Shhhhh.” Mrs. Byers murmured, cradling his head until it was pressed to her sternum.   
  
She didn't even know what had broken him down. That it wasn't the fear of the unknow, rather the wounds of the past that had gaped open at a sudden reminder.   
  
_I'm sorry._  
  
Elfy's voice echoed in his mind, making him flinch. He wanted to be angry at her for snooping again.   
  
_I'm sorry about your Mama._  
  
But along with her thoughts, he heard her pain, resonating with his own.   
  
Fuck.   
  
Billy didn't know how long it took him to get under control. Mrs. Byers stayed the whole time, kept muttering that it was all alright.   
  
Once he was calm enough to function she let him go.   
  
“Something tells me this wasn’t about the monsters.” her hand was a nice warmth on his shoulder.   
  
Billy shook his head for a ‘no’, keeping no trust in himself to not give away how raw he really was.   
  
She was about to say something when Elfy came inside the room without so much as a knock. She had two cups of orange juice with her. Mrs. Byers patted Billys shoulder again before leaving. Elfy took her place, handing him one of the cups.   
  
Just by looking at it, Billy knew it wasn't the sugared crap the stores sold but freshly squeezed juice. He still couldn't get pisses at her for looking into his overflowing memories, to have picked out one of the things his mom used to do for him to cheer him up when there was enough money to actually buy oranges.   
  
Billy clanked their cups together. “Cheers.” he rasped out. His voice was horrendous.   
  
“Cheers.” she mimicked him and they downed their juice in one go.   
  
Then she placed the cups on the nightstand and handed him a sandwich.   
  
“Jim made them.” Elfy said like that meant he had to eat, or else. There were going to be crumbs everywhere later.   
  
They ate in a comfortable silence. Billy was aware of the tear tracks on his face, they had dried up and were starting to annoy him. He didn't even want to know how blotched up his face was or how red were his eyes.   
  
When they were done she sat up, stood still for a moment before taking the empty plate in one hand and patted Billys wild hair.   
  
“Bitchin’.” she said. Billy snorted.   
  
He folded the comforter from the bed and went to the window to shake out the crumbs down into the snow when she left. He lied down on his bed, pulling the cover up to his middle because the room wasn't that big and had cooled down too quickly.   
  
Another knock on the door.   
  
He'd stated dreading those, to be honest. Hopper opened it a smidge, to see if he was allowed in or not. When he wasn't met with resistance, he stepped inside.   
  
“A wild night, huh, kid?”   
  
Billy gave another snort. “That's an understatement.”   
  
Hopper, unlike everybody else, kept his distance. Probably because Billy looked more like shit than usual for him. And Hopper had seen him on one of his lowest lows.   
  
“I'm not sure anybody ever told you the full extent to your condition.”   
  
Well, that was unexpected.   
  
“I had a bad concussion, multiple bruises, a gash on the face and the back of my head.”   
  
“I'm not talking about that.”   
  
Billy’s eyebrows flew to his hairline.   
  
“What, am I dying or something?” he wouldn't actually be opposed to that prospect at the moment.   
  
Hopper crossed his arms with a loud exhale.   
  
“No, smart-ass. When they did the scans on your brain to see if there were any internal bleedings they needed to know about, they did see something, but not connected to the concussion.”   
  
Billy was so done with all this crap. Major concussions, memory loss, hypersensitivity to literally anything that made noise or emitted light, monsters, too many emotions. He should just pack and leave. He didn't need to stay here. He'd go back to Cali in three days, if he slept that was, by car. Easy-peasy.   
  
“They found that some connections in your brain didn't seem right. After further inspection they got to the conclusion that you have a condition called IED. Which stands for Intermittent Explosive Disorder. As in strong and sudden waves of uncontrollable anger, some people say it's like red mist.”   
  
Hopper looked like he was preparing for the worst reaction Billy could muster.   
  
“That's it? I mean, I'm angry all the time. Nothing new.”   
  
Hopper watched Billy in a cross between exasperation and confusion. “Usually when people get the news they have a disorder--”   
  
“I get it.” Billy cut in before the lecture even stated. “I get the seriousness of it, I'm not sweeping it under the rug.” he motioned with his still bloodied hand. ”And I'm doing something about it. It just doesn't mean anything that I have a name for it. It's still there and it will be with or without said diagnosis.”   
  
Hopper gave a wry smile.   
  
“The moment I think I have you figured out and you spring shit like that at me, Hargrove.”   
  
“What can I say?” Billy tried to slot the mask back in place to no avail. Hopper didn't buy it so Billy dropped it. “I know you're here because I almost repeated history with Harrington, but-- I'm not that better, but it's improving. I guess.”   
  
“Actually, I wasn’t.”   
  
Oh, the joy.   
  
“Since nothing did happen, in the end, I'm giving you a carde Blanche. Only today.”   
  
“Yes, sir.” old habits died hard. Hopper’s face did a weird thing.   
  
“I thought we agreed none of that ‘sir’ crap.”   
  
Billy didn't have anything to respond to that. Somebody called for Hopper from the living room. Good timing.   
  
“We’re gonna continue this.” Hopper said in warning. “And the other shit too.”   
  
Hopper got out and Billy felt like he could curl onto his side and fall asleep at long last. While he was drifting he heard cars starting and leaving, along with the noisy geek squad. Silence. Finally.   
  


  * ••••• 



Billy barely slept, plagued by the constant feeling that he was being watched.   
  
‘We’re gonna continue this' turned out to be a legit thing because next day at school, Harrington, Byers and Wheeler had him cornered at the lockers. Well, cornered was a strong word, maybe they thought about it like that.   
  
“Let me save you a world of embarrassment by stopping you from trying to threaten me, Wheeler, because we all know those two don't have the balls for it. Which, irony.” Billy waved his wounded arm, puncture marks secure under a long sleeved shirt and a leather jacket. Wheeler gaped. “No, I won't tell anybody about it, and who'd believe me either way? No, I won't get in the way of whatever plan you weirdos have made out. No, I won't attach myself to your little geek squad, case closed.”   
  
Harrington and Byers’s eyes were buldging.   
  
“Anything else? I gotta take a piss.” Billy shoved right through them because he knew they had nothing to add.   
  
The shit thing was that he shared a class with Harrington after that. A quite long class of Literature during which Harrington blatantly sat next to him. The desks weren't even the normal kind, no, it was one of the only rooms in the school where people sat in pairs.   
  
‘We need to talk’ Harrington handed him a note.   
  
‘No we do fucking not’ Billy gave it back with the words nearly illegible because he was an ass and too pissed from the lack of sleep.   
  
‘This is serious dipshit’ Harrington bumped their knees rather forcefully. Billy didn't write a note back, instead balled it in his fist and left it under the desk. Harrington clacked their knees again. Then hit his shin against Billy’s. If it was a different situation, Billy would have taken that in a whole other way.   
  
Once Billy was sure that nobody was looking at their desk in the back of the class, he quckly grabbed Harrington's knee. His fingers dug around the flesh through the jeans. He caught Harrington's eyes and yanked his leg away from Billy’s.   
  
Harrington swallowed with a startled look.   
  
The last thing Billy needed was his fucked up brain making shit up, doing weirder things than usual. Shit like the two hour dream of Harrington blowing him, where Billy had sucked hickeys into his neck, leaving angry red behind. And how he couldn't forget the sounds Harrington made.   
  
That, combined with his overworked mind, the sudden revelation that monsters were real and how hot he felt all over, not the good kind, were doing a good trick on him.   
  
When Billy was sure that Harrington was too shocked to move, he withdrew his hand away after a final warning squeeze that was meaner than the first one. Harrington’s eyebrows twitched, just a smidge.   
  
Billy took notes, listening to the teacher because it was either that or having to rot in his own mind’s madness. Harrington didn't move for a whole minute.   
  
He didn't iniciate more contact with Billy.   
  
Billy had thought that would be the end of it.   
  
Then Harrington's leg started bouncing up and down when there were twenty more minutes of this class. Billy didn't have the nerves to handle any of this. Before his brain caught up to his body, his left arm shot out to grasp at Harrington's leg again.   
  
“Would you fucking _stop_ already?” he hissed out, quiet enough that nobody but Harrington would hear him.   
  
Harrington flinched, head snapping to look at Billy. He breathed in and relaxed his leg, pointedly looking down to Billy’s arm, then back to Billy. Billy removed his palm as if he was burned, muttering an insult under his breath, and leaned his right shoulder against the wall.   
  
The rest of the twenty minutes were both awkward and agitating, though not only for Billy. He felt Harrington's not so secret glances, especially the long ones thrown at Billy’s injured arm. At one point, it made him pick at his shirt, to scratch at the little wounds there. He'd forgotten to put on clean bandages today. He sure as hell hoped it wouldn't result in anything bad because how was he supposed to go to a hospital and say he wanted a tetanus shot for a monster that crawled out of who the fuck knows where?   
  
As the day progressed he got jumpier, ridden with hot waves that had started in the morning and made him want to hurl himself in the snow to cool off. It wasn't even anything sexual, _that_ he could understand. Heat that felt like Cali's sun during August was a hell of its own. It made his back clammy with unbearable sweat, seeped into his flesh with alarming speed.   
  
Thankfully, the whole day of school passed with no incident. As he'd gotten into his car, however, he felt worse than when he'd woken up. He took off his jacket, opened his window to the maximum and leaned back into his seat. Fuck, the wound must have gotten infected. Billy threw a quick glance at the parking lot to see if there was anybody nearby. When the coast was clear, he undid his bandage, hissing when his skin pulled along with it.   
  
The visible veins around the puncture marks looked _wrong_ , throbbed painfully. The puncture marks themselves were such a dark red, that they were borderline black. If he couldn't feel just how real it was, he would have said it was all fake, maybe even a hallucination. Billy took the duffel bag from behind his seat, snatching the bottle of antiseptic. He took a deep breath, two, three, before pouring some of the contents onto the wound.   
  
The burn made him want to scream. A sound lost its way up his throat. Billy leaned his head on the steering wheel, careful not to push the horn. It hurt so bad, tears had gathered in his eyes. He refused to let them fall. The heat grew worse the more the pain spread all over his body. With willpower he hadn't been aware he possessed, he poured some more antiseptic. This time he had to bite a knuckle to keep himself from letting out any noise. At least that wasn't a new occurrence and he had some field training.   
  
The wind grew stronger, thus relieving the heat and clearing his head. When he looked down at the wound, the picture hadn't changed. It was like his body was fighting a parasite. He'd been on the right track with the antiseptic, only some outer factor was stopping it from working properly to kill whatever that _thing_ had done to him.   
  
Another gust of wind striked, making it easier to breathe.   
  
Billy looked out the window, back to the black veins. His sluggish brain needed same time but it struck him. The cold. The cold was helping ease the symptoms. It had to be the weak link that he needed to break.   
  
It just couldn't be anything simple, could it?   
  
Billy grit his teeth, closed the window and sat back against the seat. He sure as hell was hoping his theory wasn't right because more people were starting to come out of the school now. It was a matter of time before somebody got into one of the cars next to Billy’s in the very back of the parking lot. Billy upped the heat, immediately telling the difference when his limbs started shaking. He wouldn't even be able to drive in this state. How the fuck was he supposed to go to work like this?   
  
He bit the inside of his cheek hard. He had to soak this bitch up in alcohol, start the reverse  process. His face was sweaty now, back sticking to the seat. He had to do it. Who knew what would happen if he didn't. Could you even 'transform' into them through infection? He wasn't about to fucking find out, nope.   
  
He almost missed with how bad the tremors in his hand had gotten, some of the liquid splashed onto his jeans.   
  
Only his reflexes stopped him from dropping the bottle when the loud smack sounded against his window. With wide eyes, Billy’s head snapped towards the intruder.   
  
Harrington's face was white. ‘Open the door', he mouthed.   
  
Billy franticly shook his head, pointing first at the horrible state of the injury, then downwards to indicate the inside of the car and did a motion to signal how hot it was inside. Harrington quickly caught on, nodding along with barely hidden panic. He looked around before going to the other side of the car. He didn't pull the door open immediately, instead gave Billy time to get ready. At Billy’s nod he threw the door open, slammed himself inside the car hard enough to jostle it and closed the door just as fast.   
  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” he kept muttering, bringing his fingertips to his mouth. “We need to get you to the doc, man.”   
  
“If you think I'm gonna go to a fucking doctor, Harrington, just get out of my goddamn car.” Billy’s voice came out raspy. Harrington swallowed.   
  
“Fine. But we need to get that thing out of your system. You're not acting out of it so it might not have connected with you yet.” Harrington talked nonsense and ran a hand through his hair, down his face, finally clasped it around his nape. “You need to be unconscious. We don't know if it knows where you are. It might send a Demogorgan.”   
  
“Demogorgan?”   
  
“The thing that attacked you and Max, we call them Demogorgans, older version of demodogs. Long story.” Harrington waved his hand. “Okay. Shit.” his leg started bouncing up and down again.   
  
Billy manouvered the bottle into his left palm so that his other hand shot out again, slapping over Harrington’s lower tigh.   
  
“I'm losing my mind as it is. The heat is killing me, my head hurts, my arm hurts and if you think I won't throw you out of this car if you don't stop with the _fucking bouncing_ , you're dead wrong, Harrington.” he let his fingers dig into the muscles under them, making it very clear that he wasn't going to tolerate this crap.   
  
“Okay.” Harrington nodded slowly. “Okay. I'll stop.” and he did stay still. With narrowed eyes Billy withdrew his palm away. This touching shit was getting to him. “But I need to knock you out.”   
  
Billy’s breathing was already heavy, like he was on the brink of a collapse.   
  
“Yeah, I don't think you'll even have to do that, already did a pretty good job myself.” he lifted the antisepcit with his good arm. “Speaking of.” he poured the last of the alcohol on the wound, not able to hold in the low, pained mix between a gasp and whine that snuck out of his throat.   
  
His head fell on the steering wheel again as he hunched his shoulders and slapped the dash board, trying to grasp something to hold on to when he dropped the empty plastic bottle. His hand slid over the leather because of how sweaty he was. His nails dug into the upholstery.   
  
For a few long moments all he could hear was his blood rushing and his heart probably on the verge of giving out.   
  
Then Harrington caught Billy’s hand with a similarly sweaty palm, holding tight when Billy’s grip grew in strength and tremors. His lungs constricted, making him groan and grip tighter. This was getting ridiculous. Not only that but Harrington was seeing him in a worse condition than that week he'd spent on Hopper's couch.   
  
“Turn--” Billys whole mouth felt so dry. “Turn the heat up.” he continued. Harrington must have done so because a sudden gust of even warmer air filled the car. The pain was almost the same in magnitude as the one during the ‘pain attacks’.   
  
His grip on Harrington must have been unbearable by then, considering how much Billy was increasing the hold. Harrington didn't say a word or throw any type of jab at him.   
  
When he did speak, it was a soft, “Hey, I need you to switch places with me.”   
  
Billy could barely think. Somehow they did it, the switch up, with a lot of touching and manouvering. Luck was on their side - most of the cars had already left or the ones that hadn't weren't at the edge of the parking lot where Billy’s Camaro was. Harrington had taken off his jacket, hair sticking to his forehead, yet he put the heat the further up it could go. The world was spinning violently. Billy handed Harrington the keys to the car. He'd gripped his own thigh at one point, had dug into the flesh so that his nails were like little bites in it.   
  
“Close your eyes.” Harrington said and Billy did so. Harrington leaned over to buckle Billy’s seatbelt, resulting in more unnecessary touching.   
  
Harrington drove fast, akin to how Billy did when he let the anger get a strong hold of him. He didn't open his eyes once. Harrington told him the why. The youngest Byers, Will, had been in a similiar situation like him only they'd found out too late that the thing had used Will to get to everybody else, like a sonar. They would have died had it not been for Elfy and her powers - she had closed the gate to some mirror dimension. Now it was open again and they didn't know how, where or when, nor how many demodogs they would have to face this time.   
  
“So we have a big pile of steamy nothing.” Billy concluded in a whisper, barely keeping himself conscious.   
  
“Basically.” Harrington’s driving was getting more and more hectic and even his voice had a hysteric edge to it. “Don't fight to stay awake. It's better if you’re not, because if you have that same connection with the Mindflayer - we’re screwed. Royally. Hell, we didn't even know how else, apart from possession, a person could get influenced. Until now.”   
  
Billy hummed, already letting himself fall over the edge, dangling on it. Harrington kept talking about something, the words uncomprehendable now, just a static in the background.   
  
He would do right about anything to be in Cali, seven years ago, when he could sit by his mom on the piano bench, just listen to her play for hours. Not be stuck here in Fuckwhere Indiana, where it was cold and filled with mist during the mornings with a bonus of parasitic parallel universes.   
  


  * ••••• 



The first thing he noticed when he snapped awake was that he was cuffed to a bed, wrists and ankles alike. The room was unbearably hot.   
  
Harrington came into his vision, all furrowed eyebrows and yet another variation of a pained expression. Billy opted to call it ‘I have no idea what's going on’ face.   
  
“You into bondage now or something?”   
  
Harrington rolled his eyes. “He's fine.” he looked down to Billy’s arm for a brief moment.   
  
Hopper appeared next to him, mouth in a tight line.   
  
“You stupid piece of shit.” he dragged every word, making a cord in Billy snap in place - stay still, do what he says and you'll be fine. The worst thing was that the other two had realised because Harrington placed a hand on Hopper's wrist while Hopper cleared his face of any emotion, his shoulders sagging.   
  
Billy looked away, down at the puncture marks that were now looking more like normal wounds and less like a parasite had tried to claw its way into his body through them. He flexed his hands, ignoring the setting panic at being bound and at the mercy of people who had very valid reasons to hurt him. A long shiver of terror coarsed through him. He faced the ceiling, closing his eyes. The warmth was uncomfortable. It was bearable in stark contrast to the last time he'd been conscious, at least.   
  
The sudden touch ruined any illusion that Billy was fine with the startled flinch that shook the whole bed. His eyes had snapped open. Harrington raised his hands in front of himself while taking a step back.   
  
“Shit.” Hopper sighted, rubbing the bridge of his nose.   
  
They uncuffed him once they were sure he was not in any was possessed. They still wouldn't tell him where he was until they were sure. A precaution, just in case.   
  
Billy let Harrington bandage his arm. Before that, though, he wanted to know for himself that he was okay - he asked for any type of disinfectant, Hopper handed him rubbing alcohol. Harrington got some kind of a constipated look. Billy lowered his arm onto his thigh, took a deep breath and--   
  
Shit, it still hurt but now it was more of a sting rather than feeling like his arm was being ripped apart, layer upon layer, reaching down into his bones. Billy relaxed, giving his arm to Harrington. The whole process was fast. Harrington worked with light and fleeting fingers. Billy didn't want to admit just how aware he was of him.   
  


  * ••••• 



A full hour spent in questioning and a series of test proved that Billy was safe, for now. Which also meant he found out where he was. In Harrington's house - no parents to pester them and not a place Billy had ever seen from the inside to recognise.   
  
Hopper said that Billy had probably beaten the virus before it had spread enough to make him a habitable host.   
  
“If you hadn't triggered a backward process and figured out what had caused the sudden changes or reacted accordingly, you probably would have been under. Like Will.” Hopper had said before leaving them to get to the Byers's household where everybody else was at.   
  
Hopper had also called Boss, making Billy soak in embarrassment. He hadn't had that job for more than a month and suddenly he had to take time off.   
  
It was just him and Harrington now, fixing up the guest room that had blankets duct taped to the windows, and had to move furniture from Harrington's room.   
  
“So.” Harrington never lasted during long pauses. “I found an axe in your car.”   
  
Billy stopped in his tracks, making Harrington halt as well.   
  
“There was a literal baseball bat _with nails hammered into it_ in your room and you're concerned about the _axe_ in my car.” Billy almost dropped the armchair they were carrying down the corridor on purpose.   
  
Harrington tilted his head so and so without looking at Billy, muttering “Yeah, okay.”   
  
Billy needed a few minutes of rest, as ridiculous as it was. It all started with the fucking concussion, now the shit just kept piling up.   
  
“Listen, man--”   
  
“Yeah, yeah, ‘I still don't like you, we ain't friends, keep your shit out of ours’, I know the drill, Harrington. I might be dumb, but not _that_  dumb.” Billy bared his teeth in a sharp something that couldn't possible be a smile.   
  
First of all, Billy needed to sort his own shit up. Then and only then could he think about monsters that possess people. For that to happen, he needed to be away from Harrington. Not less than a meter away, not when he felt Harrington’s heat and colongue that did things to Billy’s insides. Maybe he needed to do another short stay at Ohio, find Thomas to blow off some steam.   
  
“Would you, for once, stop assuming what people are trying to say?” Harrington blocked his way to the door. “I wanted to--” he paused, shook his head and stepped away.   
  
Billy caught his elbow. “What? You wanted to what?”   
  
Harrington's cheek twitched. His brown eyes wouldn't look at Billy. Harrington pulled his arm from Billy’s fingers, walked away with a hand on his nape. Billy went down to the kitchen, rumaged through his jacket to find his cigarettes. Just to be more of a problem than usual, he sat on one of the marble counters at the window, pulled some sort of expensive ashtray from the first drawer he opened and lit a cigarette. Still, he wasn't a Neanderthal so he pushed the window open, to blow out the smoke.   
  
Harrington glared at him when he entered the kitchen and saw Billy there. He didn't say anything, just took out some ham and butter from the fridge, a loaf of bread from the counter. He cut eight slices, spread a thick layer of butter over all of them and threw on the ham - four double sandwiches, two of which he gave to Billy.   
  
Billy finished his third cigarette while Harrington ate, then took one of the sandwiches, munching on it slowly. By the time he was done with his first one, Harrington was already washing his plate. When Billy had only a few bites left of the second one, Harrington had gotten closer and leaned on the marble where Billy was seated, had stolen a cigarette. Smoking looked good on him - his cheeks hollowed as he took a deep inhale, hair curling - by this time of the day it was from all the swearing and fatigue.   
  
Fuck.   
  
Fuck.   
  
If this was what Billy thought it was, he was screwed. Only he wanted to understand what his brain saw in Harrington when they hadn't talked for over a month after the stunt at the start of November. Now he was having sex dreams that strongly involved Harrington, had started noticing insignificant crap that he wouldn't think about twice. Billy even knew when Harrington's hair was an actual mess and when it was deliebarte. He had an actual preference now, it seemed.   
  
“You have any alcohol in here? The strong stuff.” Billy licked the residue fat from his thumb. Harrington glanced at his mouth before blowing out smoke through his nosdrils.   
  
“Sure.” he left his cigarette at the ashtray, coming back a few minutes later with two glasses full of amber liquid. “Brandy.” he lifted one glass. “Whiskey.” and the second one.   
  
“Whiskey.” Billy made a ‘gimmie’ motion. The cups weren’t filled to the brim, maybe three fingers. It burned like a bitch, made him close his eyes when the rich contents got to his taste buds. He didn't swallow immediately, instead enjoyed it, letting himself do that. This wasn't so that he could get drunk, just enough to take the edge off.   
  
He kept his gaze away from Harrington and his sweatpants and the black tee that was loose on him. How _homey_ he looked. Which was ridiculous, this _was_ his home, Billy shouldn't have been surprised at how Harrington dressed.   
  
He had become a chanismoker once he'd stepped into Hawkins. Breaking the habit now wouldn't make a difference. He lit up another one, resting the glass on his curled thigh while his other leg dangled over the edge of the counter. This was a mess.   
  
“Why did you say you were sorry?” Harrington sipped at his brandy.   
  
If his eyes weren't closed Billy would have given the most elaborate eye roll.   
  
“I mean… you didn't do it to get forgiveness. You said so yourself. You told me you _wanted_  to say it.”   
  
Billy opened his eyes solely to show Harrington just how done he was with this conversation.   
  
“Jesus fuck, Harrington, why would I say that I'm sorry? What, you think I had an evil plan to get back at Max or something? That first I had to make you let down your guard for me to be able to get on with my schemes?” he wiggled a hand in Harrington’s face, which got slapped away. “Oh, no, wait. I also, out of nowhere, developed superpowers that helped me pass through Elfy’s telepathy because she would ruin my whole plan, see. That's why I befriended her in the first place. My wicked plan's gone to shit now, thanks to your deductive skills.” he swished the cup in circular motions until the whiskey started dancing over the walls of the glass.   
  
Harrington's face was like a dictionary for expressions, he had one for every situation. It was amusing. This time, though, the hand through his hair motion didn't make the situation funny but stirred something hot in Billy’s stomach that had nothing to do with monsters.   
  
“Why do I even bother sometimes?” he murmured while staring intently at the ashtray and not at Billy.   
  
“It's how you phrase the question that gets to me. Learn how to ask.”   
  
This wasn't a friendly banter, yet it wasn't exactly animosity either. It was a-- Billy didn't know, he didn't dislike it either. It was easy, didn't leave him drained.   
  
Harrington heaved a sigh before looking Billy in the eyes. “Why did you want to say you were sorry?”   
  
“Concussions do things to a person's brain.”   
  
Harrington was having none of his shit.   
  
“You don't get to run away this time, Hargrove.”   
  
“There's nothing to run away from.”   
  
“Then why do you keep doing it?” Harrington waved the cigarette around. “Every time something like this happens, you just plaster on that, _that face,_ the one you use to make people do away.”   
  
Billy leaned away when Harrington got closer. Maybe he wasn't giving Harrington enough credit.   
  
“You ever thought my reasons are my own?”   
  
“Everybody has reasons for everything - it's called behaviour. But you, you just--” Harrington threw his arms in the air, barely keeping the cup stable enough to not pour the brandy on the tiles. “You show something different, then you hide away.”   
  
Billy drank the rest of his whiskey, set the glass on the counter when he was done.   
  
“I appreciate the sentiment but would you just drop the act? I almost _killed_ you two months ago, in case you forgot. So why are you going about like you give a fuck, huh? What's in it for you?” Billy got down from the counter, as much as he would have liked to look down at Harrington from that spot.   
  
Harrington seemed to have swallowed any type of grammar or words, just watched Billy with those damn doe eyes. Billy looked away, pocketed his cigarettes and lighter and headed to the front door.   
  
“And where do you think you’re going?” Harrington yelled out at him.   
  
“The house I currently reside in.” Billy replied as he pulled on his jacket. He crouched to put on his boots. Getting up required the assistance of the nearest wall. He was signing his own death contract with his intentions to drive when he had alcohol in his system.   
  
“The hell you are. Hop said you gotta stay here for the night.”   
  
“Oh, so you can keep an eye on me?”   
  
“Exactly.”   
  
“I'm leaving.” once the world stopped spinning and the black spots disappeared, Billy let go of the wall. Harrington was standing at the front door, looking not so amused with his arms crossed in front of his chest.   
  
Billy walked straight at him either way. Harrington realised his mistake too late because he was already cornered. Still, Billy kept his hands in the pockets of his jeans, in case his brain decided it was angry enough to strike. Standing this close was doing enough things to him as it was.   
  
“Move.” he leaned in so that Harrington had his back to the door.   
  
At least Harrington stood his ground, kept his arms locked, his chin up, using the small advantage of height he had over Billy. Billy's long sigh stirred Harrington's hair. What the fuck did that bastard think he was doing?   
  
“Harrington, move.”   
  
“No.”   
  
There were a few scant inches between them now.   
  
“You drank. Just stay the night.”   
  
Billy wanted to shove him away, to get in his car and drive as far away as possible from this place, from Harrington and all the humanity he had in him, from the way he made Billy’s insides charge with electricity, from the way Billy just couldn't seem to run away from him.   
  
“Stay the night, Billy.” Harrington repeated, the fatigue more apparent now that Billy had removed almost all the space between them. How he'd said his name made a slow shiver dance over Billy’s frame.   
  
Without moving away he toed his boots away, followed by his leather jacket. He didn't really know if it was his imagination or if Harrington's eyes had grown dark for a scant moment. He had to move away before he did something stupid.   
  
Billy headed back into the house. Harrington followed him up the stairs, told him that the second guest room was his. There were clothes at the edge of the bed - gray sweatpants and a red sweater. Billy’s breath caught in his throat - it was the same sweater that kid from Econ had been wearing, the one Billy had, for a brief moment, thought was Harrington.   
  
Billy went to take a shower, had to walk awkwardly around, praying that he wasn't going to stumble into Harrington's room instead because Billy hadn't paid enough attention when they moved the furniture. When he found it, he was tempted to leave. Why would anyone need a bathroom so big, huh? Rich people, that's why. It took him a few tries to start the shower at a normal speed rather than super slow dripping or painfully fast pouring. He did slip on the tiles, four times to be exact. He could just feel Harrington laughing at him from his own room. Jesus, he came here to refresh himself, not end up with even more bruises.   
  
Billy didn’t even bother covering the wound on his arm again. Shame that Harrington had wasted bandages on it an hour ago. His hair was dripping onto the collar of the sweater, getting curlier by the second because of the fucking Hawkins humidity. He'd kill for at least one of his hair products right about now.   
  
And not only that but Harrington walked out of his room while Billy was searching for the second guest one. Harrington pointed at the door near Billy’s right, kinda dumbfounded.   
  
“Say a word and I'll gut you like a fish.”   
  
Billy knew how his curls got. What people saw was barely anything in comparison to the shit his hair did once he had washed it.   
  
“Okay but _how_ ?” Harrington gestured with a hand. “It's not that curly after the shower, after basketball.”   
  
“There are these things called hair products.” Billy dragged a hand though his hair in a failed attempt to tame some of it in place. He used the mirror in the hallway because of course rich people had mirrors in the hallway. “Fuck’s sake.” his fingers pulled at the strands, trying to straighten them to no avail. The moment he let them go, they bounced back to their original form. A light growl forced its way up his throat.   
  
Harrington was observing the scene with an air of interest and humor.   
  
“I swear to fuck, Harrington.” Billy lifted his middle finger at him, bumping their shoulders when he went down the stairs for a smoke. He'd been tempted to light one in the bathroom, it would be so petty and feel so good.   
  
He should have smoked in the bathroom.   
  
The extra humidity from the fog outside was even worse, was going to cement the current state of his hair. Whatever, if he tossed around in the bed while he slept, it might be enough to make some of the curls lose their wild side.   
  
Harrington was at his side a minute later, elbows on the counter, near Billys dangling legs. He stole another one of Billy’s cigarettes. Billy moved them between his thigh and the wall at the counter so that those greedy little hands didn't even think to take another.   
  
“Asshole.”   
  
Billy gave him a dazzling smile.   
  
“How was the shower?”   
  
The smoke Billy had inhaled choked him. “You need to up the quality of your pick up lines if that's what you always go for.” he said while thumping a palm against his chest.   
  
Harrington twisted his cigarette in the crystal ashtray to form a pointy end while letting out a prolonged, agonised sigh.   
  
“I meant the heat of the shower.”   
  
“Perfect. Stung the wounds, though.”   
  
Harrington reacted at that, stopped breathing for a moment.   
  
“Like normal wounds hurt, you idiot.”   
  
“Well, ex _cuuuu_ se me for thinking something might be wrong after you were on the edge of being possessed by the Mindflayer.” Harrington glared daggers at him, blowing the smoke from his lungs straight into Billy’s face.   
  
“Was that supposed to make your statement clearer? Since, you know, I'm literally holding a cigarette in my hand.”   
  
The growing stubble was itchy now, making him lift his free hand to scratch at it. Harrington watched the motion, keeping an eye on Billy’s bruised knuckles from the one-on-one with his wall.   
  
“You do this a lot, averting the topic until you piss me off enough for me to forget.”   
  
Billy looked away, taking a long inhale of smoke, switching the cigarette to his left hand to flick the ash off. Harrington reached slowly for him. He took Billy’s wrist with his thumb and middle finger, moved it when Billy didn't react, so that the thick puncture marks were on display on the inner side. With the bandages not in the way, the reality of it all hit closer than Billy liked. Harrington left his cigarette in the ashtray, didn't move further to touch Billy. Just the contact they currently had. Harrington's fingers were light on his skin; even so they felt similar to burns - too hot, too much of a grounding threat to ignore. Harrington looked with unhidden curiosity, eyebrows furrowed, doe eyes even bigger somehow.   
  
“Does it hurt? As much?”   
  
Billy shook his head for a ‘no’, unable to stop the shiver that coarsed through him at the sight. It was brutal, to say the least. Billy, being used to blood, wasn't really fazed by it. Yet the fresh horror of that night, where the thing had almost killed both him and Max, made it look grotesque. The marks were nowhere near healed - raised crimson flesh, but at least there was no blood pouring out of them.   
  
Harrington brough his right hand close, as slowly as he had done with the other one, to probably touch near the wounds. This was too intimate. Too intimate for not-friends, too intimate for friends even, just--   
  
But Billy didn't say no, didn't snatch his arm away with an insult shot at Harrington's face. He hadn't realised he was shaking because of the image until Harrington covered the gory picture away from his eyes with his palm, not touching, just hanging in the air to take the view away.   
  
Billy blinked, returned Harrington's heavy gaze.   
  
His cigarette had almost burned to the filter, the ash gathered up like a short bridge to the ashtray. He closed his eyes, let his head thump against the wall near the window and breathed out. There was no denial that what happened during the past month, what happened two nights ago, what was going on in his head, that it was all coming back to him now that he--now that he was--   
  
Billy jumped off the counter, leaving a pensive Harrington behind, and went up the stairs two at a time. Only when he was in the guest room, when he'd locked it, was he able to let the wave crash over his head. And it did feel similar to a merciless wave - it took him, making his body not his own to control, dragged him to the floor and spit him out on the shore.   
  
He couldn't breathe, couldn't stop the shaking that seeped through his muscles and into his bones. He was on the ground of an unfamiliar house. Monsters were real. He'd almost become an even bigger monster than he already was. Harrington was screwing with his mind.   
  
He hadn't realised he'd been laughing hysterically. Not until a sob sought its way out. He slapped a palm over his mouth, the smack too loud in the suddenly humongous room.   
  
Maybe it was all a dream. Maybe he was going to wake up in the hospital after his father had beat the shit of him. Maybe his twisted mind had dreamed all of this relative freedom up to cope. Maybe he was still tranqualized in the Byers’s house, lying on the floor with one of those things dead in the fridge, just a few steps away.   
  
Billy crawled his way to the bed, barely coordinating his shaking limbs enough to do so.   
  
“Hargrove?” the knock on the door made him jerk in a flinch. The lamp from the night stand crashed on the floor.   
  
His legs coudn't hold him.   
  
“Hargrove?” the lock started jiggling.   
  
He barely caught himself on the edge of the bed, hands grasping at the sheets.   
  
“Hey, man, open the door.”   
  
He smashed his head in the edge of the matress, still on the ground.   
  
“Billy?”   
  
He hid his face in his arms. His legs were bent under him, in a way that would surely result in pins and needles.   
  
“Shit.” the jiggling of the lock grew frantic. “C’mon, Billy, open the door!”   
  
A drop of water fell down the back of his neck. Like the blood that had seeped into his sweater on his mom’s death anniversary.   
  
“Don't make me break down this door ‘cuz I really don't want to. But I can and I will.”   
  
When the fuck was Harrington going to shut up? His weird kindness, his weird face, his weird eyes, his weird hair were all enough. Billy didn't want anything to do with him.   
  
A loud bang made Billy jump out of his skin.   
  
“Hop, he locked himself in the room. No, I know. He's not opening. We were just talking downstairs and, and, and he _flipped_ . Now he's not answering. No, I don't think-- I just talked with him, I would have noticed if he'd been possessed!” the lock jiggled again. “C’mon, Hargrove, open up!” another bang, Harrington was hitting the door. “Fuck. I don't know, he’s not answering me.”   
  
Maybe if he drowned the sounds he’ll wake up.   
  
“Oh. Uh. She did? Billy, El wants to talk to you. Elfy? You remember her, right?”   
  
The girl that saved his life by not letting him wander when the snow got worse. Of course he remembered her.   
  
“She, uh, she told me you’ll want orange juice. Not store bought, the real thing. And something about a piano? I mean, my parents have one a few rooms away, if you want?”   
  
Another sob tried to rip through him.   
  
He was dreaming.   
  
Maybe he was still in Cali even. Maybe he'd dreamed up Hawkins.   
  
Yeah.   
  
Maybe… maybe he'd be able to see the waves in the morning.   
  
Maybe.   
  
Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I'm no psychologist or psychiatrist and I don't have a degree in those spheres, so all my info is either from the internet or from random conversations with my mom since she's actually studied both. I'm not sure whether IED can be diagnosed like that, however. Let's pretend it was possible to do so even with the technology they had back then. 
> 
> As for why exactly IED - well, ever since I re-watched the scene where he beat the shit out of Steve, the thought hit me. It stuck with me and was one of the main reasons to start the fic in the first place. Billy fits the symptoms perfectly imo.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	6. You know you got all my attention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, a ton of kudos to all the people who keep commenting, you're my motivation, I want you to know that. Also ily ❤ And kudos to the people who leave kudos as well, ily too! 
> 
> WARNING: in the beginning of the chapter Steve is in a really bad state of panic and I don't know if it might be triggering to any of you. If so, please DO tell me so I can classify it as something more than 'a state of panic' because I'm an idiot and I don't know if it classifies as a panic attack. 
> 
> I was kinda stuck the past few months and I am really sorry to any of you who've been waiting for my dumb ass to post a new chapter. I'm crossing my fingers to getting out of the slope soon.
> 
> The title of the chapter is from The Neighbourhood's "Single"
> 
> Any typos are my own, sorry abt that, do tell if you see something. I hope you enjoy!

Billy woke up slowly, sense by sense. His legs were killing him. Did he run too much last night?

Opening his eyes resulted in a mini heart attack. He didn't know this place.

It took a bit but the memories hit him one by one, the last being that he'd lost it when Harrington's touching had become too much to bear and too good to push away.

Billy got to his feet, sat on the edge of the bed to make sure he wasn't going to break his face further. It was bright outside, maybe early afternoon. It made the room not so alien when it was bathed in soft yellow and orange colours. He stood up, headed to the door. Man, he didn't want to face Harrington but he needed to take a piss.

He unlocked the door. It was like a gunshot in the quiet.

Billy almost tripped over Harrington who was asleep, back to the wall, on the left side of the door, with a walkie-talkie in his lap. He had that nail-ridden baseball bat in his right hand.

Before Billy could make the decision whether he should get out of the house while he had the chance or not, Harringron stirred awake. His immediate reaction was to clasp both palms over the bat, bring it ready for a swing. Billy saw the exact moment Harrington noticed him - he froze, then sprung to his feet, stumbling a bit. Billy stood where he was while Harrington blinked the sleep out of his eyes and simultaneously searched for something in Billy’s face.

“Fucking hell, man. You scared the shit outta me last night.” Harrington lowered the bat, rubbed one eye with a long yawn.

Billy was subdued enough to be able to utter a ‘sorry’. The temperature in the hallway was higher than normal. It was a relief that he didn't feel like something was clawing at his insides. He showed Harrington the puncture marks - no weird abnormalities around the wounds.

“Not possessed.” he said.

Harrington took a step towards Billy, head tilting to look at the wound better. He reached out to touch, stopped, looked at Billy and lowered his hand.

“Was I the one who triggered it?” he asked, placing the head of the bat to the rug. “Whatever happened to you yesterday?”

Billy shrugged. Harrington might as well could have been the catalyst to an inevitable outcome. “Maybe.”

“Why didn't you stop me then?” Harrington got in his way when Billy tried to bypass him. To hell with the little bit of height he had over Billy.

Billy shrugged, looking away. He wasn't having this conversation.

“Billy.” it wasn't a warning tone, more like something desperate. “I gotta know if this has anything to do with the Mindflayer or not, okay? Because we’re all freaked. There’s a portal opened somewhere and we don't know where or how much shit has gone out from the Upside down. If the Mindflayer is trying to make you its host or something, we need to know.” the reason was valid, Billy thought, but it wasn't like that, he would have felt it.

“It's just my own shit. Ain't got anything to do with those things.”

“You sure? _Fully_ sure? I need to know if you’re feeling weird like before, i-- if it's formed a connection it knows where you are, where we all are.”

“Yes, Harrington. I'm sure.” Harrington observed his face, eyes tracking every movement Billy made. “Personal shit. Not monster shit.” Billy wiggled his left arm, making him look at it. “Nothing weird, right?” Harrington didn't look convinced, if anything, he was more defensive than before. “Listen, I need to go to work. It's too late for school now either way.”

“Work?”

“Yeah. This thing where you put in labour to earn money. Work.”

“For fuck’s sake, man, would you just stop it?”

“I'm not doing anything.”

“Yeah, you are. You keep averting everything with sarcasm like, like it's gonna solve anything. It won't.”

Under normal circumstances Billy would have lashed out. The feeling when somebody could read you, your actions and intentions alike, was not something he was used to. Hopper was one of those people but he was a cop, it was his job, it was what made him good at what he did. Elfy had telepathy on her side. And Mrs. Byers - she had two kids, she was a good mother from what Billy had gathered. Harrington was none of the above, was a teenager like him who, unlike Billy, had kindness in him.

“I need to go to work.” Billy repeated. He just needed to be away. Away from Harrington and his stupid effect on Billy. He hated people who had that leverage over him.

“Are you--”

“It helps.” Billy made himself look at those doe eyes. He was willingly showing Harrington a meager part of himself that he hid in the shadows. He was taking a fucking risk and he didn't even know why. “It helps.” he repeated, jaw clenched.

Harringron weaved a hand through his hair. “Okay. Fine.” Harrington's swallow was as loud as a bark in the silent house. “But.” Harringron lifted his index finger. “But, you come straight here after.” he pointed said finger to the floor in front if him.

“Excuse you?” Billy took a menacing step forward.

“Susan doesn't know about any of this. The rest can't swarm your house if anything does happen. My parents are here maybe five days of the month, tops, and it's a perfect spot for group meetings. We need to keep an eye on you. The Mindflayer is a sneaky son of a bitch. Only Mike had realised Will was under, and it was too late.” Harrington spoke calmly, slowly, with the slightest hint of tension in his shoulders.

“It's not in me. I would have felt it.”

Harrington jerked his head. “We need to be sure. It's literally life or death here, _don't you get it_ ? It's pissed that we stopped it before, it wants us _dead_.” his breaths was coming in short pants now, he'd gotten pale in a matter of seconds. Even his pupils were dilated in fear.

Whatever had happened before must have been real shit if Harrington was reacting like that to the sole recollection of the events. Billy only had a taste. The others had gotten the full menu of the horror show. He remembered that some guy Bob had died, Max had said something when Susan asked, it was a small town after all. And that girl, Barbara, who'd gotten poisoned from chemicals - it hadn't been chemicals after all, huh?

“I need to get some stuff from the house.”  Billy heard himself say. He didn't like this version of Harrington - the apparent fear, the shaking frame.

Harrington let out a shaky sigh, covering his face with his free hand and nodded. He'd probably expected a worse reaction. Had it happened at the beginning of last November, Billy would have been a bastard, would have done everything to be as least cooperative as possible. Now… now, he just wanted it to be over - he wanted to graduate high school and move back to Cali. Simple as that. For that to happen, he had to make sure he didn't have cops and geek squads on his heels for being a shit stain that was sure everything was fine, that he wasn't possessed.

Harrington didn't stop him when he headed to the bathroom this time. He didn't get in his way while Billy smoked in the kitchen. Billy didn't even see him further than that. His car was waiting for him outside and it was like a gulp of freedom. When he drove away, he saw Harrington look from one of the windows on the second floor. Billy didn't pay him any attention.

  * •••••••



Billy continued on with his life. He went to school, then to work, then to Harrington's house. He had to explain to Susan the situation but it seemed that Hopper had a word with her beforehand again - she didn't seem to mind in the slightest. Not that Billy blamed her, he was barely toleratable on a daily basis, not to mention when he had sudden feelings that something bad was going to happen, that one of those things was going to crash through the kitchen window and the only way for him to feel safe was with the axe in his hands. Harrington, at least, didn't bat an eyelash when one night Billy had dragged his axe to the kitchen counter with him for the nightly smoke. And oddly enough, Boss hadn't asked for it back.

He still drove Max to school, to which both her and Susan seemed a bit taken aback. Max mostly watched him, spoke from time to time, only when Billy didn't look like death had warmed over. Most of the nights spent at Harrington's house Hopper and Elfy stopped by, for dinner and because Hopper said, with a tight expression, that it was good for her to not stay in the cabin the whole time. Mrs. Byers came along with them sometimes. One of the nights, the whole flock that came with Harrington was present. Billy stayed in the guest room until Elfy found him and made him come down. He mainly smoked with Hopper and Mrs. Byers, let them talk about the shit that had happened, the basics he needed to know if another miny apocalypse occurred again.

He went to school, as stupid and useless as it was. Cohabitation with Harrington was awkward on the best of days. They didn't get in each other’s way, Billy made sure they barely even spoke, in fear that Harrington would bring out that crap in his stomach back to life again. It was literally the last thing he needed. Past experiences with guys in Cali gave him enough knowledge to know that it never ended well for him. He stuck to girls mainly for that reason. The other being that whenever he indulged in _those_ thoughts, it resulted in sex dreams that left him hot and bothered the whole day.

He'd spent a whole week in Harrington's house when some doctor came around. Hopper had been there, had calmed Billy down, explained that it was the same doctor who had treated Will Byers and had helped them escape from the lab. The one who'd given Elfy a birth certificate. The tests were simple when they weren't in a hospital and had no technology for the more serious crap. At least it was quick, the doctor didn't linger.

Harrington even filled him a glass of whiskey,  to the brim, after the doctor and Hopper were gone. Billy had taken it without any words of gratitude, gulped three consecutive swallows for a fast effect. He smoked in the kitchen, seated on the counter he'd marked in his mind as his. Harrington came along for a cigarette, keeping Billy on edge for another serious conversation. Instead, Harrington kept silent, looking out the window and jumped at the slightest of sounds.

At the end of the second week Billy was pretty sure that he was free to go when the doctor didn't show up anymore and there were no revelations. He could walk away, go back to the house, at the room that had some taste of home. He wouldn't have to look at his reflection in the hallway mirror every time he went down the stairs. He wouldn't have to be this close to Harrington, wouldn't have to see him in his natural state during night time because both him and Billy couldn't sleep, which resulted in shared cigarettes.

Because it was getting harder to function with such proximity. The damn feelings were bubbling inside of him full force now and he didn't even remember when it had started. It was too late, the thought struck him that night. They were smoking at the kitchen window, Billy on the counter with his back to the wall, one leg curled so that it took up most of the space on said counter. Harrington was so bad that day that he didn't even snipe a comment at Billy. His shoulders were hunched, making him appear smaller, hair an even bigger mess than Billy’s after work.

Billy just wanted to watch him. He didn't even have to touch, he could swallow that impulse. He hadn't washed yet, after coming back from the shop at midnight, just so that he didn't miss this small moment he'd started craving during the day. It wasn't even anything big - fifteen minutes of smoking in the same vicinity. He was a pretty pathetic picture nowadays.

At one point, Harrington had snapped out of it enough to notice that the ashtray was basically between Billy’s legs, maybe a foot away from his crotch. Harrington glanced at Billy and looked away a short moment later. He didn't say a goddamn thing, just reached out to flick the ash off his cigarette. That, at least, answered where Billy stood.

He left the same night, a little after four in the morning, to stroll around the town a bit, just him and his Camaro. He drove Max to school. At least he didn't share classes with Harrington that day. He also had a free period which gave him a pass to go to work earlier. Boss kept stealing glances at him like he _knew_ what was going on inside of Billy. He never said anything so Billy didn't pay any mind.

He didn't have to take Max to the Arcade, meaning he could leave whenever he wanted. Around eleven his eyelids started dropping and he left. Harrington was waiting at the Camaro, biting on the skin around his thumb. His eyes were wild.

Billy quickly walked over to him, turned left and right to see if there was anybody in the near vicinity. Nobody was out and about this late. He gestured to Harrington to get inside the car once Billy had opened the doors.

“What's going on?”

Harringron continued biting at his thumb. He looked like he hadn’t slept.

“I think there's--” Harrington closed his eyes, ran angry hands through his car. “I'm losing my mind. I keep seeing them _everywhere_. I keep hearing them in my room, it’s--I don't even know what I'm doing here.” a hysterical laugh resonated in the car. Billy wondered if that was how he'd sounded during his own meltdown.

“Did you talk with Hopper?” Billy knew what he'd wanted during that breaking point - silence, everything to just slow down, for him to disappear in a safe place. So he kept his voice quiet, his hands in his lap.

“No. I mean I was going to but he's, he's got enough on his plate right now. With all the crap happening and El’s episodes. It's the last thing he needs.”

“What episodes?” a cold hand dug into his stomach.

“Oh, uh… um. Her powers are going berserk. She has episodes where she just shuts down for a brief period of time. The maximum’s been one and a half minutes for now. We don't know if it's the PTSD from that son of a bitch that--” Harrington rested his elbow on the edge of the window, covered his mouth with a whiteknuckled fist. “What they did to her in the lab. Me having a freak-out is not another problem he needs to park at his door.”

Billy heard about that for the first time. Elfy had seemed fine the last few times she'd come to Harrington's house with Hopper.

“And, I mean. I usually talked with Nance about this but now it's not, it's, she's with Jonathan.” Harrington was waving a hand around with a desperate face. “And I'm not mad but I can't talk with her like that now. It's different.”

Billy leaned towards Harrington slowly, caught his wrist carefully. Harringron froze.

“Are you drunk?”

Harrington pulled his hand away, rubbed his wrist like Billy had used handcuffs instead of his fingers.

“Tell me you didn't drive here.”

“No.” Harrington was offended by the assumption.

“You got here by foot?”

“I ran.”

“You r-- you _ran_? In the snow? Jesus fuck, Harrington, that's at least two miles away from your house. And those things are roaming free somewhere but you got drunk and ran here? I can't even,”

Billy barely caught himself in time before he struck the wheel. Best part was that Harrington didn't look like he was sweating so the wind must have sweeped the evidence under the rug and brought up the possibility of Harrington catching a cold. Unbelievable.

“I'm driving you home.”

“No. _No_. I don't wanna go back there, it's too quiet, it's, it's, I don't wanna go back there.” Harrington tried to get our of the car. The only thing that stopped him was the way he swayed and fell back on his ass in the seat he tried to vacate.

Billy reached out to close the door and buckle Harrington in.

“If I'm there with you, will you stay in your house?” Billy asked with the back of his hand on Harrington's chest, keeping him still enough to ease the bite of the seat belt into his skin.

Harrington’s head fell on the headrest. “Yeah. I, yeah.” and he nodded along with his words. “You have a cigarette?”

Billy lit two cigarettes, gave one to Harrington. He opened their windows and they smoked in the small parking lot at the back of the auto shop. Billy didn't want to think about this - how Harrington had been wandering alone when it was almost midnight and there were demodogs, or whatever the geek squad called them nowadays, lurking around hypothetical corners. And he'd come to Billy. Not Hopper or the Wheelers or the Byers’, but Billy.

Harrington was watching him. Billy wondered when he'd gotten used to it exactly, when he had started reacting to it in a way he was sure Harrington hadn't intended.

Billy started the car. Harringron glanced at his hand on the keys. He drove fast, the rising panic of attacking things from alternate dimensions was enough of a stimulus. They practically sprinted to the front door, Billy even took his axe with him. He had to call Susan to tell her that he was staying with Harrington for a school project, it passed as an excuse at least. They went through the whole house, on Harrington's insistence, checked every lock and window. Harrington even dragged him to his own room to smoke instead of their usual spot on the kitchen counter, said that the first floor was not a good option now, too close to the ground. He was shaking. And he seemed to be the drunk type that took a lot to come down.

They'd chainsmoked while keeping an eye on the forest. When Billy closed the window and turned to leave Harrington grabbed his arm, hand shaking so bad that the tremors travelled to Billy’s skin.

Harrington didn't vocally ask him to stay, didn't beg either. His eyes were what made Billy reconsider. The brown was almost swallowed up by the dilated pupils. Sheer terror. Billy only found out a few years ago, while looking in a mirror with his face a bloody mess, that fear made them dilate too.

Harrington let go of him with a full body flinch, eyes to the carpet and a whispered “Sorry”.

All of the lights were turned on, it made Harrington look smaller.

“I need to take a shower.” Billy pointed at his face, at the black marks on his left cheek and neck.

Harrington wouldn't meet his eyes.

“I'll need clothes. I'm not sleeping naked in the same bed as you.”

Billy couldn't believe himself. This was beyond his stupidity had ever reached. Not only that but Harrington was drunk as a skunk.

“Oh. Uh. Just a sec.” Harrington tripped on the carpet, almost smashed his face in the edge of his desk, before he was able to get his ass to the wardrobe. How did he even run to the auto shop?

“That one of your kinks, Harrington? Dressin’ me up in red?” still, Billy took the familiar sweater and the gray sweatpants.

“You look good in red.” Harrington commented like they were discussing what to have for lunch. Billy stomach did that weird flip thing again. “Ah, shit.” Harrington faced him with a grimace. “Let's just pretend that didn't happen, okay? Jesus, I need more alcohol.”

“No.” Billy stopped him with two fingers on Harrington's chest, akin to how Harrington himself had done that night Billy almost killed him.

Harrington blinked at him and opened his mouth.

“No.” Billy repeated with more force, pushed him to sit on the bed. “No more drinking, Bambi.”

And he left to the bathroom. He tried to take the shower as fast as possible but using Harrington's shampoo did shit to his senses, made him hard in a matter of seconds. He should have been embarrassed just how fast he came when he was surrounded by Harrington's scent. Though it did make him settle into his skin, made it easier to function.

Harringron hadn't moved from the spot Billy had pushed him onto. He glanced up at Billy and very pointedly held his eyes while he lowered himself to his back, spreading out his arms. Harrington was so fucking drunk. There was no other explanation, alcohol altered people. For example, Billy became even more toxic when he had alcohol in his system.

“I ain't sleepin’ on the floor, Harrington. You better move your ass outta starfish mode.”

Billy didn't come closer, instead went to have another smoke. He'd tried to dry his hair with a towel, it was a better result than he'd expected if he had to be honest - at least there was no water dripping from it. He looked around the trees, the paranoia digging under his flesh once more.

Harrington watched him from his spot on the bed - silent, barely able to keep his eyes open. Billy had to push him onto his side to crawl into the bed later. He also had to play a tug war with the blanket to get it out from under Harrington and cover them both with it. It was painfully awkward to say the least. The lights were still on, Billy blamed them for his inability to fall sleep. Judging from Harrington's breathing he was awake too, the daze of the alcohol was most likely losing its effect on him.

Having to share a bed would have been more toleratable if they were under different covers. Alas, they weren't and Billy was starting to sweat under the heat. He had started beating himself over this whole scenario he could have avoided had he said a simple ‘no’. With Harrington it was never that easy, was it?

At one point, maybe two hours later, he'd started drifting when Harrington moved.

“You awake?” Harrington murmured when Billy didn't react.

“Yeah.” Billy whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder he'd ruin something that didn't even exist. “You still drunk?”

“Nah.”

Harrington moved again, this time to get out of the bed. Billy heard his steps on the carpet, the flick of a lighter and the hiss of the window opening. He listened to the inhales and exhales of Harrington smoking. The cold from outside seeped into the room, cooling him down. In the back of his head, he wondered if he was going to get sick when his hair was wet. He pulled the blanket to his nose just in case.

  * •••••••



Billy woke up with a sudden panic clawing at his insides. He sprung up in the bed, breathing irregular, heart drumming against his ribs. His hands shook. He curled forward until his face was in his palms, elbows braced on his thighs.

He couldn't even recall the nightmare, only the fear of being found.

Something stirred to his right. Harrington.

Harrington who was on his stomach, facing Billy. Harrington whose big and hooded eyes were observing him. Harringron who shouldn't have been such a turn on lying in the same bed as Billy in his ugly plaid pyjama. When had he even changed into a pyjama?

The sun hadn't started rising yet, meaning the only light came from the lamps in the room.

Harrington didn't speak for which Billy was immensely grateful. Billy lied back on the bed, on his back, with his hands on his belly. A residue shiver crashed over him, making his skin erupt in goosebumps all over.

He liked this.

He liked this picture. Waking up in a bed with somebody. Not having to explain himself or to talk. The person next to him understanding his horrors on a bone-deep level. Not being cornered in. Having a sense of safety. Feeling something close to what the word ‘home’ meant for him.

He had to go away.

This wasn't good.

Not whatever he felt for Harrington, nor the whole scenario itself. Good things didn't last in his life. His first love didn't last. His mom didn't last. Cali didn't last. Nothing ever did.

And Harrington was one of those people that had a secure future unlike garbage like Billy. He was all Billy wasn't and had everything Billy didn't. Sure, Billy himself was at fault for most of it, a series of shitty decisions that forged his path. Who knew if he'd still be alive five years in the future or if he'd get himself killed by reckless driving and drinking.

“Stop thinking. I can hear you from here.”

Billy slowly inched his head to the right, to face Harrington.

Harrington's hair was ridiculous, sticking in every possible direction, it made Billy wonder how he ever tamed the way he did even with hair products.

They kept staring at each other. Billy coudn't stop when he was in this state of mind. He squeezes his eyes closed. The less he saw, the less he fed the emotions. The less it was going to hurt when the inevitable crash happened.

He had to get up soon, drive Max and his own sorry ass to school. All he had to do was go through half the day and he'd be able to be with the cars in the shop where Boss would raise eyebrows and still not utter a single question.

“How did you know where I work?”

“Asked Hop.” Harrington must have mashed his face further into the pillow because his voice sounded weird.

They spent maybe another half hour in complete silence. Billy had started drifting again but jolted awake when Harrinton shook his shoulder lightly. His eyes snapped open then, alertness on maximum. Harrington sighted before withdrawing his palm.

“We gotta get up if we wanna be on time for school.” was all he said and exited the room.

Billy only put on his work clothes back and he was ready. He had to tame his hair once he was back in the house. He didn't want to use the hair products he already had here. It meant he had a place under this roof. It meant something he'd most likely never have either way.

He didn't meet Harringron on the way out and the moment he realised he'd forgotten his pack and lighter he was already outside. 

Susan had just woken up when he had brushed his teeth and made himself a cup of coffee. She gave a light smile, still not quite awake herself. After a small debate with himself, Billy poured her coffee when she went to the bathroom. He left the mug on the table, hurried to his room. Fixing his hair took a lot of time, almost a whole hour. By then Max was awake too.

“It's getting worse.” she spoke when they were in private in the Camaro.

Billy started the car.

“Define worse.”

“People started disappearing. Four for now. But we can't find the rip so El can fix it.” she wasn't sleeping much either. She probably went monster hunting with her geek squad every night.

Billy wondered whether he should tell her about Harrington and his wanderings. He decided to keep it down until he saw how Harrington was at school.

“And what exactly are you doing to find the portal or time rip or whatever?”

“We just scout around.” Max was definitely somewhere in her mind right now, she wouldn't have told him this bit of information if she was fully present. “You know, sometimes I just want it to be a dream. That one of them didn't crash the Camaro at the wrong time, that we'd just,” she made a motion like they were zooming down the street. If she was speaking to him in this way, like they were friends that constantly shared shit like that, she was really inadequate. Those damn kids needed to sleep cuz life doesn't let you get enough of it as it is.

He gripped the steering wheel. Before, he would have taken advantage of that, would have been cruel. Now he just understood her because they were against the same thing.

“If we hadn't encountered it, it wouldn't be dead, it would have taken another victim. And you wouldn't know they were back.” Billy turned to the right, to avoid that road where it all started. He didn't think he'd be able to pass through it again.

Max kept wringing her fingers the rest of the ride while they both let their thoughts consume them. She turned to face him before she got out the door and Billy didn't even have to hear what she wanted to say. He nodded, reached out to lightly grip her shoulder, for no more than a second, before he shoo’d her off.

They weren't on the best of terms, they would never have a normal relationship with so many boundaries crossed by Billy but it was… it wasn't so bad, what they had now. He wasn't used to it, not by a long shot. Still, it wasn't bad.

He had maybe ten minutes to spare, they'd gotten out of the house earlier. Harrington parked next to him less than a minute later. It was obvious how worse he'd gotten in the morning light. Both him and Billy had slept maybe four hours, tops, but this was another type of fear induced darkness in his eyes.

“About last night--”

“Why me?” Billy interrupted him offhandedly.

Harringron must have expected the question. He didn't fidget.

“I, I don't--” he heaved out a sigh, dug into the pocket of his coat. He had Billy’s pack and lighter, only he gave them back after he lit one. Billy had to reach over to get his hands on the pack when they were sitting each on their respective car’s hood. “It seemed right at the time. You're not a kid, you wouldn't freak out and make a scene. You're not an adult, you wouldn't baby me or try to make me feel better. You're just,” Harrington waved his cigarette around. ”you.”

“I don't even know how to interpret this but I'm too sleep deprived, so whatever.” Billy lit his own cigarette, pocketed the pack and lighter afterwards.

Students started piling up. Billy caught Tommy's eye in the crowd. Tommy averted his eyes with his tail between his legs, started walking faster.

“What's that all about? I heard some shit but those were just rumours.”

Billy pursed his lips. “He pissed me off about something after the teacher left and I did what I do best - I lashed out.” he tilted his chin up, daring Harrington to start something.

“And you left him whole? Shame.” Harrington clicked with his tongue, a barely there smirk playing at one corner of his mouth.

Billy snorted, coughing a little with how the smoke burned through his throat.

“Was that before or after you left for Ohio?”

“Before.”

“Huh.” but Harrington was looking at Tommy, not at Billy.

The warning bell rang just before Billy's last drag. He locked his car and left Harrington on the parking lot.

School seemed like less of a drag now that Billy had other things to worry about. The teachers didn't bother him, probably because what happened with his father and how everybody knew. Or because his grades weren't slipping about. With lunch break being just around the corner, he'd thought about a small trip to Ohio again. Nothing was going to happen for two days. The geek squad didn't need him either way.

The bell rang, Billy packed his shit and debated whether he should go outside or in the library. Wheeler made the decision for him by grabbing his arm out of nowhere, dragging him to the school parking lot, stopping when they were at Billy’s car. Harrington and Byers were on their heels. Byers kept his distance, like a smart person, while Harrington sat on the hood of the Camaro like he belonged there, like a dumb individual that doesn't know when the line is crossed. They were out of earshot to any curious people and besides, only lunatics went out in this shit-ass weather for their lunch break.

“Well?” Billy lit a cigarette. Actually, he was surprised they hadn't dragged him somewhere the first day of school after the that thing tried to possess him.

“How much do you know?”

Billy ticked an eyebrow upwards. “All of it. Max said you're running into dead ends trying to find where those fucker are piling out of. Four missing people.” Wheeler nodded.

“Yeah, that’s about it.” Byers nodded along, stubbing his boot in the snow.

Billy glanced at the fidgeting Harrington. He was expecting Billy to spill the beans.

“So. What am I supposed to do? Or are you just doing ground control to see if I magically aquiered more info than you?”

Wheeler and Byers shared a look, having a telepathic conversation of sort.

“We still don't like you. After what you did to Steve and Lucas that night. But the more heads we have on this, the better.” Wheeler’s face was stoic and Billy had to hand it to her - she didn't have a big frame or the height but she didn't back up.

“That brings us to question A. What am I supposed to do?”

It was obvious they didn't want him involved in their dynamic. Billy wasn't _that_ stupid.

“Just say if you see anything, doesn't matter to which one of us. We’re gonna do the rest.”

“Fine by me. But as much as I can remember from what Harringron told me, the last time some psychopathic scientist opened a gate by basically torturing Elfy. If a power in that magnitude was needed to open that crack between our universe and those things’, then what did it now? Do you even have leads? Because if the big boss, the Mindflayer, or what-the-fuck-ever, did it - we’re fucked. It means that even if you close the gate, it can still open another one.”

By the end of his monologue he had three pairs of wide eyes on him.

“It doesn't take a genius, for fuck’s sake. Stop making fish faces.” Wheeler would have lashed our had it not been for Byers’s hand on her shoulder.

Her jaw ticked.

"The mutual hate is strong, believe me. But whether you like it or not, I got involved when it tried to possess me. So until this pile of crap is done with, we’re on the same team. Temporarily.” Billy sat on the hood of his car, a safe distance away from Harringron, just so he didn't get into Wheeler’s face.

The anger had started spiking his blood again, better look subdued rather than repeating history.

They sat in silence for a while, Billy glaring in the distance while the three of them had more telepathic converselations.

“El trusts you. That's the only thing saving your ass right now, just so we’re clear.”

Billy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, now can we get back to the pressing matter or do you wanna make a contract with a hundred clouses where each and every one of them states in one way or another that you don't trust me?” good thing he'd sat down. Byers clasped his fingers around her elbow even if she hadn't reacted.

“Hey, hey, stop it.” Harringron waved his hand between Billy and Wheeler. Billy pushed it away with his index finger and a warning tilt of his head. “He's right. We need to think about the Mindflayer, not our personal bullshit.” Wheeler’s shoulders hunched when Harrington said the last word. “Did Mike and the kids find something Dustin didn't tell me about? Because I talked with Hop this morning and he said there was nothing new.”

“Nothing new.” Byers confirmed. “And Will isn't acting any way out if the ordinary. He hasn't had any dreams like that, maybe the first one was a fluke. I mean, he's not possessed anymore, we got it out of him.” Byers stole a brief glance at Billy.

“It's still fresh. What, two months ago you closed the gate? It's normal for the kid to be freaked out.” Billy stared at the snow, willing his brain to come up with something. “The visions, did they happen before or after he was possessed?”

“Before.”

“Fuck.” Billy flicked his cigarette away. “Not PTSD then.” he leaned his elbows on his thighs, clasping his hands together. “You said one viosion.” Billy turned to Byers. “What was it?”

Byers looked uncomfortable under Billy’s gaze. “Uh, the usual. Mindflayer in the distance. Red lighting storm closing in.”

“Huh.”

Wheeler threw her hands in the air, murmuring something under her breath. Billy wasn't even mad at her for that, he had to deal with himself on a 24 hour basis till the day he dropped dead so he did understand her rage.

“I told you. He can't help. He doesn’t know half the stuff that happened.”

But while Wheeler was on the verge of kicking him in th balls, the cogs in Billy's brain started turning. It was moronic, stupidly ridiculous even. Movie-type ridiculous that couldn't work in real life.

“You said they like the cold.” Billy turned to Harrington. “What happens when we take that away?”

“And how do you propose we do that? Can you control the weather all of a sudden?” Wheeler was going to explode any moment. Billy wasn't gonna lie, he wanted to see how much she'd last.

“A controlled fire is not gonna work in this weather for obvious reasons, but what if. Hypothetically. There is some sort of epidemic and, still hypothetically, an authority says that the only way to battle said epidemic is to use more heat?”

Wheeler closed her mouth, a pensive expression crossing her face.

“And, hypothetically of course, the kids that get ‘sick’ will all know how to fake their symptoms so that it looks like the same thing hit ‘em.” the three of them shared some sort of manic look while Billy lit another cigarette. “Parents always get more protective when shit like that starts. If the hypothetical person of authority advises for immediate vaccines, all of which are free and most definitely _not_ placebos, the whole town is gonna go tumblin' in panic. All types of gruesome stories are gonna start spreading thanks to the gossiping grannies.”

“And the more the panic arises, the more people are gonna get all hypochondriac out of every small thing like a cough.” Harrington snapped his fingers.

“Every building is going to get warmer because nobody gives a shit about bills when they could die if they don’t up the heat.” Wheeler started pacing in front of the car.

Billy waved his cigarette to gesture ‘and there you have it’. A demented solution but hey, sleep deprivation and too many feelings were never a good combo to begin with.

Wheeler pulled Byers away. “We’re gonna call Hop!”

“Wow.” Harrington knocked their knees together. Billy shrugged and in a small indulgence didn't move his knee away. “The kids are gonna love this. Faking a disease, dramatising, not going to school.” Harrington shook his head with a laugh.

“I'm a fan of conspiracy theories.” Billy wiggled his eyebrows once, enough for Harrington to lose a bit of the crazed panic that had been controlling him since last night.

If somebody who didn't know their history saw them, they'd probably think it was friends hanging out.

“Thanks. For not telling them. About, you know.”

Billy coudn't look away. Only this time he couldn't pretend to be sleepy and close his eyes. The bell ringing startled them both, they looked away. They didn't move from the hood of the Camaro still.

“Yeah, well, I'm an asswipe but not that much.” his heart was thumping too much all of a sudden. He knew what it meant, it had his insides go cold. “I gotta go to class.” he hurried away, pretending that he didn't hear Harrington calling out his name.

  * •••••••



Work had become a sanctuary for him. Boss bothered him only when he saw Billy was in condition for it. The other guys mostly steered clear of him, apart from when more power was needed for some lifting. Boss had even started giving him harder jobs, more work. He never got pissed when Billy asked questions. Billy could see how a man like him was friends with Hopper.

When he'd been zoomed out for five minutes straight Boss sent him home, not up for negotiations. A small part of Billy expected Harringron to be in the parking lot again. He dashed to his car quckly, upped the heat as much as it would go and headed to the house. Harrington's BMW was at the front.

Billy stumbled upon an awkward scene of Susan, Harrington and Max sitting together in the living room, eating biscuits with Max and Harrington sharing painful looks. Harrington's head snapped towards Billy once he heard the door open, jumping off the couch in a flash.

“I, uh. There were some changes in the project?” he gave a frantic glance to Billy’s room down the hall.

“What, again? I thought we covered that at school.” Susan was looking between them with uncovered interest because Billy never had people over while Max was paling bit by bit. “Fine, fine, just let me wash my hands, sheesh.”

Harringron thanked Susan for the biscuits, did a fist bump combination with Max and headed to Billy’s room like they did this all the time.

Billy took the few seconds to wash his hands in the the kitchen before following Harrington. He locked the door to his room once he was inside. Harrington had sat on the exact same spot as the last time he'd been here.

“I talked with Hopper, he approves of the plan so now he's scheming with Mrs. Byers and the doc while El is telling the rest to the little shits. We were thinking of starting tomorrow but I gave them instructions to get on with the pretending in front of their parents tonight.”

“What’re the symptoms?” Billy tugged at his curls in the mirror, fixing the one at his forehead. It was literally useless when he was going to be taking a shower but it gave him something to do other than stare at Harrington.

“Dizziness, black spots, sensitivity to light, coughs, feeling sleepy and weak, maybe same form of hallucination, fainting episodes. Uh, preferably a lot of fainting episodes. We’ll think of more for when shit starts progressing. I guess." he paused. "I hope.” he basically described Billy’s condition during the concussion. But it'll do.

“Okay.” Billy said and left the room, hoping his facade was going to get through. Max and Susan were still in the living room. “Harrington told me. You still having dizzy spells and black spots? I thought you said it was just because you hadn't eaten breakfast.” he leaned on the wall of the corridor.

There was no way anybody was gonna buy the concerned step-brother bullcrap, not with his supreme level of assholery, but he relied on Susan being too tired from work and for her concern to smudge her perception a bit.

Max needed a pointed look to catch on.

“Oh. I, um.” she hunched her shoulders, twisted her fingers in her lap, not looking at her mother.

Susan immediately brought her hand to Max's forehead. “You’re warm. And pale.” her eyes sought out Billy. “You said she was like this in the car this morning?”

“Yeah, but I didn't think she was sick. Harrington said she almost fainted on the way back. The rest of her little squad aren't holding up so well either.”

Max's eyebrows twitched but the moment her mother faced her, she feinted feeling weak.

“Maybe it's another epidemic? Like the one in Cali two years ago - started with the kids then it got full blown in the whole state.” planting the seed was the best thing he could do right now. All Susan had to do was share with a friend or colleague and the plan was in motion.

Susan bit at her mouth. “Yeah. Could be. How about you skip tomorrow? The both of you. To be sure. I'll call your schools.”

Billy swallowed. He hadn't expected that. He felt Harrington’s presence at his back.

“I'm fine.”

“You were concussed. It might affect you faster. No buts.” Susan headed to the kitchen to call somebody on the second phone.

Billy didn't know what his face was showing. It must have been something weird if even Max didn't say a thing. He went back to his room, Harrington came back a few minutes later.

“That was a good play. I told Max to deliver to the little shits that they do the same scenario, especially Nance and Mike. Mrs. Wheeler’s gonna flip her lid.”

Billy shuddered involuntarily at her mention.

“What?” Harringron brough a socked foot up on the bed like Billy’s room was his second home or something. Why did he have to be like that when the last time he'd been here Billy had almost smashed his face in?

Billy looked away. “Had to find you somehow that night, didn't I? So I had to play the role for her to give me the info I needed.”

Harringron squinted in confusion. Ten seconds were needed before he caught on and choked. “ _You seduced her_?”

“What the fuck was I supposed to do?” Billy hissed back at him. “I had to find Max or my dad was gonna--” he bit his tongue, turned away. “I had to find Max and bring her back to the house. Didn't have a lot of options. I worked with what I had.” Harrington shifted on the bed. “What did you come here for exactly? Max could have relayed your message.”

The lack of response answered him plenty.

“You don't want to be alone in your house.” Billy sat on the opposite edge of his bed.

“Pretty much.” Harrington had his head turned, staring through the wall. “This is stupid. I'm just gonna,” he pointed at the door and got up.

“It's too late. Probably around midnight. Those things are mostly nocturnal. Sit your ass down.”

Harrington leaned back against Billy’s pillows while looking around the room. Billy went to talk with Susan, ask permission that Harrington stayed the night. When he got back, he dug out clothes for himself and Harrington alike. No way was that fucker sleeping in his bed with those clothes when who knows where he'd been during the day. What Billy was more worried about was how fine he was with sharing his bed with him. He was so fucked. And not even in the literal sense.

“You gonna shower?” Billy threw the clothes on his unmade bed.

“Yeah, that's not a bad idea.”

Billy got him towels along with the clothes. He stopped for a moment, a strong thought filtering through him. He'd gone commando last night at Harrington's house and just thinking about Harrington doing the same made heat flare through him. But what got him burning even more was picturing Harrington in Billy's underwear. Before he could think it through, he took out two pairs of briefs.

He was royally fucked.

  * •••••••



Going to bed with Harrington in Harrington's bed was one thing. Going to bed with Harrington in _Billy's_ bed was another story. It was like a switch had gone out in his screwed head in a matter of a few days.

Stupid Harrington and his stupid face and his stupid eyes and his stupid hair and his stupid kindness despite all the shit Billy had done. Every goddamn thing about him was stupid.

And because of his own stupidity, that was even bigger than Harrington's, he was going to have another sleepless night.

It was too hot under the cover again. His mouth was dry, heart thudding inside him so loud he was almost sure he wasn't the only one hearing it. Harrington was constantly shifting like he too couldn't fall asleep. At one point he moved enough to have his back pressed to Billy's. Billy didn’t react, just barely. Then Harrington stopped moving around every five minutes, his breathing evened out. Billy unconsciously matched their breathing rhythm.

  * •••••••



Billy woke up to a warmth he wasn't exactly used to. He was in his room, in Hawkins. The view of the window confirmed it. But he wasn't alone in his bed.

He turned around slowly, with his movements down to a necessary minimum. The darkness was thick in the room with no sunlight coming from the window yet. Harrington was on his stomach, giving Billy a sense of Deja Vu. This time, however, it was Harrington who was having a nightmare. It was what had woken Billy up - the heavy breathing, the hands pulling the sheets and the warmth that was filling the room because of Harrington's incredibly high body temperature.

He was taking in sharp inhales, followed closely by shuddery exhales. Billy moved away, trying not to jostle the bed too much.

“Harrington.” he didn't dare touch. He judged by his own experiences - with nightmares it was better to let the person themselves show you what they want instead of suddenly forcing your touch on them.

Harrington didn't react, just curled onto his side, still facing Billy. The only sound in the room was his frantic breathing and the light rustle of the cover when Harrington tugged on it sharply.

“Harrington.” Billy tried again, moving until he was at the edge of the bed, only one wrong move and he was going to topple over on the ground. “Hey, Harrington.”

It wasn't working. He couldn't raise his voice or he'd wake Susan and Max.

“Harrington, c'mon, wake up, it's just a dream.” another failed attempt.

Still without touching, Billy leaned closer to tug at Harrington's pillow. “Steve. _Steve_.”

Harrington jerked awake, shooting up on the bed, similarly to how Billy had reacted the previous morning.

Billy retreated his hand, drew lines on his left palm with his thumb so that he had something to do. Harrington was staring straight ahead, unseeing. His body was shaking so bad Billy had to look away.

“Shit.” was the first thing Harrington said, biting at a knuckle. “Sorry.” he wouldn't look at Billy either.

Billy shrugged either way, force of habit by now. Harrington lied back on the bed, blinking furiously at the ceiling while rubbing at a spot just at the side of his throat. Billy tried to leave the bed. Harrington caught his ankle.

“Stay. Please just, just _stay_.” his grip was probably tighter than he'd intended, maybe the tremor controling his limbs played with his perception. But he let go of Billy when he didn't get an answer or further movement.

Billy lied down next to him. His bed was smaller than Harrington's so with both of them on their backs, their arms were touching from shoulder to wrist. Billy deliberately started breathing a bit louder, in an attempt to subconsciously influence Harrington to match up with him. His mom did that for him, when he was a little brat.

Harrington used the hand that wasn't connected to Billy's to cover his face. Billy clenched his jaw, to stop himself from reaching out. This was so bad, so fucking catastrophic because in a short amount of time he'd fallen without even noticing. He thought he still had time to avoid the crash but the more moments passed between them, the more he realized he was already in a pile of broken bones and blood on the pavement. It was too fucking late. And if somebody asked him, he couldn't pinpoint when it had happened.

When Billy came to, forcing himself to leave his mind, Harrington had started breathing normally, had matched himself with Billy.

Billy didn't think Harrington needed somebody to talk to but in the end he didn't really know, no matter the small details that he'd seen and memorised. He didn't know Harrington.

“You have any alcohol?” Harrington saved him the mini monologue.

“Yeah. But you have to drive soon.”

“ _Fuck_.” Harrington heaved a tired sigh. He still hadn't moved his arm away from Billy's. His body temperature was high enough to make Billy sweat by now, with how they were covered by the blanket halfway. The only thing keeping him a bit cool was the still wet hair. It hadn't dried from the shower last night.

Billy didn't want to be the one to break the connection between thier bodies.

“Can I have a smoke in here?”

“Yeah.”

But Harrington didn't move away just yet. His head rolled on the pillow to face Billy. Billy swallowed thickly, didn't do the same, the ceiling was the better option for his sanity. Because next he knew, he was going to lean in and kiss Harrington, kiss _Steve_ , morning breath and all. And if it got reciproted he was going to push him further into the mattress, fuck his mouth with his tongue, grind their cocks together until they were both on the edge and--

Oh, hell no.

Nope.

No.

Nuh-uh.

Billy sat up, running his hands through his hair. Sex dreams were not something he could control. Sexual tension from one side of the party, was. He needed to reign himself in. Today was Friday. He was going to pack a duffel bag when Harrington left, stop by Boss to tell him he was taking a break. Hell, Boss would be pleased - he'd been sassing him around that he needed to rest, to live a little, to take days off and not spend his whole life in the shop unless he really had no money to live by.

“What?” Harrington startled him. He'd sat up like Billy, curious eyes observing him from under his lashes.

“Personal shit.” Billy shook his head, stood up to get to the window. Harrington followed him like he didn't see the tightness in Billys shoulders. He pressed their arms together, from shoulder to elbow, when he took his spot on the window.

That's when Billy got it.

Harringron wouldn't ask for it, but touch was what he needed to step inside reality, outside of the barbed wire that his brain suffocated him with. Billy lit a cigarette, took two inhales, gave it to Harrington. They shared it like that, passing it about after two drags. The cold made shivers flow down Billy’s spine because of his still wet hair. It was a welcome distraction.

When was the last time he cared enough to swallow down his own shit so that he was able to ease somebody else's?

The sky started tinting purple, pink and orange.

They smoked one more cigarette before Billy got back under the covers, on his back, in a clear invitation. He just didn't understand how Harrington would actually seek that from somebody like Billy of all people. He guessed the circumstances were at fault. Harrington took it, pressing their arms together, this time to their pinkies. Harrington was staring at him again. Nothing new. Billy closed his eyes. He could dooze a bit more.

He stirred when Harringron got up to dress in his own clothes. Billy’s head involuntary shifted in the direction of the sounds. His whole body turned along with it until he had his back to the wall, until he was facing Harrington who wore an unreadable expression. That dark something was back in his eyes. For a moment Billy was sure Harringron was going to lean on his hands on the bed, that he was going to kiss Billy the way Billy had wanted, and hadn't stopped wanting, to do a while ago. He wanted to fuck him, that was a sure thing. But he wouldn't mind it being the other way around, to be pinned by Harrington on this very bed. Billy pulled the blanket to his chin.

_Here I come, Ohio._

“See you later.” Harrington whispered in the darkness, like there was a secret between them he wanted to keep.

“See you.” Billy didn't want him to leave. That's exactly why Harrington couldn't know.

When Harrington's BMW sped away, Billy headed to the bathroom, ignoring the hard on that had formed ever since the first thoughts involving kissing Harrington (and other things). He packed his duffel bag, left not one but _three_ yellow sticky notes on the fridge, saying that he was going to be back by Sunday afternoon.

Max woke up before he could leave unnoticed. She stopped, a frown marring her face as she took in the duffel bag strapped over his shoulder. She caught on immediately.

“Ohio?”

“Yeah.” he said and pointed at the notes on the fridge. “I'll be back by Sunday afternoon.”

“And how am I supposed to find you if shit gets real again?” she placed her hands on her hips. The effect was nonexistent with the teddy bear on her shirt. Bad thing about them being temporarily on the same team meant that she had an actual point here.

“I'll call from the motel I’ll be staying at.”

“Did you tell Steve?”

“Why?”

Max blinked up at him, exasperation seeping out of her in waves.

“Because. You coordinate with him more than anybody out of us. Do you seriously have to go _now_ of all times?” she whisper-hissed at him, waving one arm all over the place.

Billy thought about it. This was a selfish way to get as much sexual tension out of him as soon as possible. And he couldn't deny it, Max was right about this one. But if he wanted to keep the little sanity he had and the relatively stable not-exactly-friendship with Harrington, he had to subdue those thoughts.

“I'll be back tonight. One day instead of three.” he didn't even know why he was trying to make a compromise with the little shit.

“Deal.” and she left him.

Billy drove like a madman. This time it took him less time when his head wasn't killing him and there were no noises he had to be careful of. And time was on his side. He'd left from the house at about six.

Quite honestly he wasn't expecting to just run into Thomas, he was a realist. But if he wanted to get what he needed, he had to find him withing the next few hours if he wanted to actually be back at Hawkins later tonight. Turned out he didn't have to search a lot, he literally ran into him while roaming around a supermarket for some water. Talk about wild luck.

“Hey.” Thomas’s face spread in a grin. He didn't look so well either, he had the same dark circles and Billy couldn't be sure but maybe he'd also lost weight.

“You look as worse as I do.” they continued on talking while paying for their stuff. They stopped by Billy’s car. “So.”

“My place? Something tells me you ain't here for long.” Thomas took the passenger seat.

  * •••••••



There was nobody in Thomas’s house and, thankfully, it was at the very edge of the neighbourhood he lived in.

Billy fucked him hard enough that he was glad they'd closed the windows. Thomas was pliant under him. He had a spark in him for sure but whatever was eating him up was also taking the little energy he had. As a rule they never kissed because this was just fucking, a way for them to get what they needed, to pretend for a short while.

Afterwards Thomas jabbed jokes at him, that Billy had driven all the way from Indiana just for a booty call. Billy pushed him off the bed and they fucked one more time, on the floor with Thomas straddling him and making the whole ordeal something softer than it was.

By four in the afternoon they were both completely drained. They sat in the kitchen while Billy smoked.

“When's he leaving for New York?”

“He keeps averting. Won't tell me a damn thing.” Thomas stirred his coffee, leaning his face on one palm.

If anybody looked at them, they wouldn't be able to tell they'd fucked twice in the span of an hour and a half, not with how miserable they were.

“And your Harry?” Thomas had pretty brown-ish eyes. But they weren't as warm as Harrington's. Honestly, all that was missing was for Billy to start waxing poetics.

“He has issues. We both have. Shit’s getting real in our town and I just can't wait to move back to California.”

Thomas clicked with his tongue. “And leave your boy behind? Man, you really hate yourself.”

“I've pushed. He's not interested.” Billy was on his fourth cigarette. “If I feel like shit, might as well be home at the beach.”

Thomas laughed.

They got interrupted by a knock on the door. Thomas got to his feet.

A frantic voice started, not even waiting for the door to open. “Tom, we need to talk. Right now. Sarah just--she backed out and we already talked with the guy about the apartment in New York and I don't even know if I'll get fucking accepted but like the big idiot I am, I just went ahead and--”

Thomas pulled the door open. The dude from before, Kevin, was on the other side. He was spotting the expression of a man drowning. Then his eyes landed on Billy.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Billy blew out smoke from his nostrils, lifting an eyebrow. He probably should have stayed in the kitchen. Thomas gave him a look over his shoulder.

“You good?” Billy asked, to make a scene.

“Your grand assholery can wait in the kitchen.” Thomas threw a small quirk of his lips back at him. Billy walked backwards with his hands raised, an innocent face plastered already.

That didn't stop him from eavesdropping.

“Who the fuck is that? Why is he in your house when you said you didn't wanna see anybody today?”

“Why are _you_ here, Kev? When you know I wanna be alone. I told you - it's all your decision, I can't choose for you. It’s your life and you'll be living it, not me.”

“You’re my best friend.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Of course you are. I'm a loser without you, man.”

A pause.

“I still need you to leave. I was having a conversation.”

“Are you sure it was just a conversation? He looks like a--”

“Finish the sentence. No, no, go ahead. Because in case you’ve forgotten, Wood--you know what, just leave. _Leave_.”

The front door got slammed shut. That Kevin dude yelled something, banged some more but the the clicks of the locks followed shortly after.

Thomas stormed into the kitchen, throwing himself in the chair he'd just vacated.

“Selfish prick.”

“Didn't think you had it in ya.”

Thomas kicked his shin.

They sat in silence for half an hour before Billy decided he bad to leave if he wanted to be back before midnight. He wanted to want Thomas instead of Harringron because of how easy it was, plus Thomas wasn't a sore spot for the eye either. But during all the times they'd had sex, Billy always went back to Harrington when he closed his eyes.

This was so fucked up.

The sooner he graduated and left Hawkins, the better. Just a few more months.

Thomas gave him the home number for when Billy wanted another day like this one, to be sure they wouldn't have to rely on luck. Billy pretended he didn't appreciate it. Thomas was basically a stranger; it felt more than that. Which spoke just how ridiculous and scrambled his brain was - he found a friend in a person he'd fucked three times, had spent less than a day with, all encounters counted for, and he'd fallen for the golden boy with too big of a heart on him.

Billy drove back in a more controlled manner this time. He'd expected the effect to last longer but the closer he got to Hawkins, the more it felt like he hadn't left at all. The ride was a blurr to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse my really fucking dumb excuse of a plot and how I'm trying to solve the problem in the story. I didn't plan on it being so shitty but it was either that or no chapter because I needed that key dynamic of the fake disease to start.
> 
> I kinda overindulged with this chapter. I'm a sucker for Steve being in so deep that he starts trusting Billy enough to seek him out in a bad state of mind ┐(´д｀)┌
> 
> Thank you for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Would you mind telling me what you liked or didn't like, what I should maybe improve?


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